


Aftermath

by StarGoddess



Series: Shadow 'Verse [6]
Category: NCIS, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Women, Bert the Hippo, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Dom/sub Undertones, Empathy, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Precognition, Psychic Abilities, Spies & Secret Agents, Telekinesis, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1271164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarGoddess/pseuds/StarGoddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NCIS investigates the death of a Marine officer involved in a classified program.  </p><p>“Anything else, General?” Vance asked.<br/>“Both Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Baran are authorized to carry their personal weapons at all times,” O’Neill's expression turned not-quite-serious, “Do not attempt to disarm either of them for any reason. It will not end well for you. Or me. Do you have any idea of the sheer amount of paperwork I'll have to do if those two yahoos injure your agents? Master Sergeant Thomas won't let me leave my office for a week.”<br/>“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gibbs replied.<br/>“Thanks for your cooperation,” O’Neill grinned, “Oh, don’t bother to call the new SecNav, Director. She hasn't been read into the program yet.”<br/>O’Neill reached forward and the screen cut-off.<br/>“Interesting,” Vance turned to Gibbs, “Thoughts?”<br/>“I think Lt. Baumann was involved in black ops,” Gibbs said, “And I think General O’Neill is a dangerous man.”<br/>"He seemed pretty easy-going," Vance pointed out.<br/>"I'm sure he wanted us to think that, Leon," Gibbs replied.<br/>“Better go pick up his people,” Vance agreed, "Be careful. I'll make a couple calls and see if I can find out what the General does exactly."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short crossover story, based on the Stargate characters established in the three main stories in the Shadow 'Verse (Chaos, Order, and Shadow) and the characters from the CBS show NCIS. Set one week after the break in the last chapter of the story entitled 'Shadow' and in the beginning of Season 11 for NCIS, right after Ziva David's departure.  
> I own the characters from neither series, sadly, and only borrow them for entertainment purposes. 
> 
> Updates should be every couple days and I ninja-edit all the time, even after the story is finished cause I'm neurotic like that. 
> 
> Originally for this story, I was going to set it later in Season 11 of NCIS, but I decided that I couldn't capture Ellie Bishop's voice properly. Then I toyed with the idea of bringing Ziva David back by setting this story earlier, but I decided it would mess up the timeline I had established. Instead, you get a testosterone filled NCIS team! 
> 
>  
> 
> Please enjoy reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to the eye color I had in mind for the OFC - http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs36/f/2008/248/e/a/What_Purple_Eyes_You_Have_by_Octosaur.jpg  
> And the hair - http://www.prettydesigns.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/Natural-Long-Hairstyle.jpg

 

 **Aftermath** : the consequences or aftereffects of a significant unpleasant event.

 

* * *

 

“General O’Neill’s office, this is Master Sergeant Thomas.”

“ _Put him on the phone_.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, General O’Neill is in a meeting at the moment. May I take a message?”

“ _Don’t give me that bullshit, Sergeant. You and I both know he’s in his office playing computer chess. Poke your little head in there, tell him Colonel Baran is on the phone, and if he doesn’t talk to me_ right now _I’m going to break into his condo and dye every article of clothing he owns_ bright fuchsia _! Then I'm going to come to his office and_ -”

“Yes, ma’am. Please hold.”

Thomas clicked the hold button on the phone, cutting off the ranting woman on the other end, and walked over to knock twice on the General’s office door before opening it and stepping inside.

“Sorry to bother you, sir,” Thomas said politely, “But Colonel Baran is on the line. She says if you don’t talk to her immediately she’s going to dye all your clothes fuchsia.”

Jack rolled his eyes and moved away from his computer to pick up the phone as the man excused himself from the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I’m not sure how good I look in fuchsia, EJ,” Jack said in lieu of greeting, “Maybe we can go for peridot instead.”

“ _I’ve been debriefed the last five days in a row, Jack, for fourteen plus hours every day_ ,” EJ nearly growled, “ _They ask me the same questions over and over and over and I’m about to snap and start stabbing people in the face because I cannot handle these….these…_ politicians _any longer! You have to do something to get me out of this. Tell them the City is sinking and I have to go back. Tell them Rodney blew up another solar system. Tell them I’m defecting to the Genii. Tell them something,_ anything _, or I swear to whatever local deities are listening_ I will not be responsible for the consequences!”

There was some jostling and mumbled voices on the other end of the phone before Colonel Sheppard’s calm voice came over the line.

“ _Jack_ ,” John started evenly, “ _Sorry about that. EJ’s in time-out in the other room now. She snuck the phone in the bathroom with her while I wasn’t looking_.”

“I gathered,” Jack replied dryly, “I take it the IOA debriefings aren’t going well?”

“ _It’s a worse than we expected, sir_ ,” John lowered his voice, “ _Not the debriefings exactly, those are going as well as can be expected. It’s her reaction to them that I’m concerned about_.”

“How bad?” Jack frowned.

“ _If it were anyone else_ ,” John continued in the quiet tone, “ _I’d recommend she go see a therapist for treatment of PTSD_.”

“But since it’s EJ, that would only make things worse,” Jack sighed, scrubbing a tired hand over his face, “Even if we could get her to agree to it.”

“ _She’s not getting enough sleep or eating properly because of these debriefings_ ,” John admitted, “ _a_ _nd it’s affecting her healing process. It’s been two weeks since we got her back and there are still visible bruises, Jack. That’s not normal for her_.”

“Having the IOA pick apart her career since the two of you started seeing each other certainly isn’t helping matters.”

“ _Too late to do anything differently now, I guess. Unless someone in the program finally manages to make a working neuralizer_.”

“That would be _sweet_ ,” Jack grinned, “Is someone actually working on one of those? That could solve a lot of problems for us.”

“ _I think a couple of scientists in the City have been trying to make one in their spare time_ ,” John drawled, “ _But they're also trying to make sonic screwdrivers and lightsabers, so I wouldn’t hold my breath_.”

“I'll talk to the IOA, John,” Jack promised with a laugh, “I’ll get you _both_ a couple days off. Stay at the hotel, order room service, do whatever you two do when you’re together that I never want to hear about. I’ll call you in a couple days to let you know when she has to be back.”

“ _Thanks, Jack_ ,” John gave a sigh of relief, “ _I’ll let her know_.”

“Keep your wife away from my house,” Jack insisted, “I like my clothes the color they are.”

John laughed as he hung up the phone.

 

* _NCIS*SGA*NCIS*SGA*NCIS*SGA*NCIS*_

 

“Did we ID the body yet?” Gibbs came into the small group of cubicles, addressing his team as they gathered in front of the flat-screen TV.

“We did, Boss,” Tony clicked the remote and a military ID came onto the screen, “Meet First Lieutenant David Baumann of the US Marine Corps. According to his file, he’s currently stationed at Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado Springs, Colorado, under the command of an Air Force Major General Hank Landry.”

“And?” Gibbs prompted when neither man spoke.

“And that’s it,” Tim admitted sheepishly, “His file is classified beyond that.”

“So un-classify it,” Gibbs ordered evenly.

“I’ve tried every way I know how, Boss,” Tim insisted, “There's nothing else on this guy. It's like his entire life has been scrubbed clean. The only other information I was able to find indicated Lt. Baumann collects every kind of combat pay that exists and several that don't exist, year-round since he started his posting at Cheyenne.”

“I put in a call to speak to his CO,” Tony added, “But I think they were giving me the run-around. They’re supposed to be calling us back any time.”

“You’re telling me we've had a dead Marine Lieutenant in the morgue for three hours,” Gibbs asked carefully, “And you two don’t have any more than his name and where he’s stationed?”

“Gibbs,” Director Vance called from the balcony above them, “MTAC now.”

Gibbs looked up to see Vance turn around and enter MTAC.

“Find out who he is,” Gibbs ordered firmly, walking towards the stairs.

“On it, Boss,” two voices chorused behind him.

Gibbs went up the steps and leaned in front of the retinal scanner, opening the door to MTAC when it beeped in recognition.

“Director,” Gibbs acknowledged, receiving a short nod in turn.

“Call’s coming through, sir,” the tech said easily.

An older man with gray hair came on the screen, [dressed in a plain black uniform, his name and service stitched in white on the front, three white stars stitched into each of the epaulettes, and two large rectangular Velcro patches on the shoulders.](http://www.screenused.com/images/auction_jul14/14907_5.jpg)

“Director Vance, I’m Lt. General Jack O’Neill, USAF,” the man introduced himself, “Word has it you might have one of my Marines in your morgue.”

“We’ve identified the body as a First Lieutenant David Baumann,” Gibbs spoke up.

O’Neill frowned slightly before yelling at someone off-screen, “Thomas! Bring me the file on Lieutenant David Baumann. I need to know who he belongs to.”

“My team said he was stationed at Cheyenne Mountain,” Gibbs informed him, “under the command of General Landry.”

“That may be, Agent…” O'Neill prompted.

“Special Agent Jethro Gibbs,” Gibbs responded easily, “My team is the one investigating his death.”

“He may be stationed at the Mountain, Agent Gibbs,” O'Neill said calmly, “But that doesn't necessarily mean he’s under Landry’s command.”

“How does that work, General O’Neill?” Vance asked warily.

“Classified and complicated, Director,” O’Neill took a file folder from the outstretched hand of a man off-screen, “Thank you, Master Sergeant.”

O’Neill opened the file and flipped through the first couple pages.

“Well, shit,” O’Neill said under his breath, “That’s just fantastic.”

“Is there a problem, General O’Neill?” Vance questioned.

“He’s not one of Landry’s,” O’Neill flipped over a couple more pages, “He’s one of Sheppard’s, which makes this infinitely more complicated. You guys are in DC, right?”

“We are,” Vance agreed, "Can you tell us what Baumann was doing way out here?" 

“I can’t tell you what he was doing in DC,” O’Neill looked up at the screen again, closing the file.

“Can’t or won’t, General O’Neill?” Vance scowled.

“Can’t,” O’Neill shrugged, “I honestly don’t know what he was doing there. I have good news and bad news for you, however. Which do you want first?”

“Good news,” Vance insisted.

“The good news is,” O’Neill explained easily, “The CO for the base he’s currently stationed at and the person he works for are in your area now. They'll be able to give you background on Lt. Baumann and let you know, at least vaguely provided you understand scientific mumbo-jumbo, what he was doing in DC.”

“And the bad news?” Gibbs prompted.

“The bad news is,” O’Neill leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands over the top of the file, “Because of the _extremely_ classified nature of the work Lt. Baumann is involved in, you'll be working with two of my people for the remainder of the case. They'll have access to every part of the investigation and will be kept in the loop at every stage.”

“On whose authority?” Vance raised an eyebrow.

“The President’s,” O’Neill smiled dangerously, “And either you agree to my terms or we take the investigation from you entirely. Your choice.”

“And if your people are involved in his death?” Gibbs narrowed his eyes.

“The two you’ll be working with aren’t involved,” O’Neill waved a hand dismissively, “They’ve been otherwise occupied catching bad guys for the last month. What’s your decision?”

“We’ll work together, for now,” Vance agreed cautiously.

“Great,” O’Neill grinned, “Lt. Baumann’s CO is Colonel John Sheppard. He’s staying with Dr. EJ Baran, the person Baumann's been working under, at the Hay-Adams. They’ll be the two you’re working with for the investigation. They're currently under a communications black-out, and _ignoring me_ completely, so you’ll have to send a couple agents to pick them up. Ask for Emily Jameson at the front desk or you won’t get the right room. Tell them to call me if they need verification of their orders.”

“Anything else, General?” Vance asked easily.

“Both Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Baran are authorized to carry their personal weapons at all times,” O’Neill's expression turned not-quite-serious, “Do not attempt to disarm either of them for any reason. It will not end well for you. Or me. Do you have any idea of the sheer amount of paperwork I'll have to do if those two yahoos injure your agents? Master Sergeant Thomas won't let me leave my office for a _week_.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Gibbs replied calmly. 

“Thanks for your cooperation,” O’Neill grinned widely again, “Oh, don’t bother to call the new SecNav, Director Vance. She hasn't been read into the program and can’t do anything to help you.”

O’Neill reached forward and the screen cut-off.

“That was certainly interesting,” Vance turned to face Gibbs, “Your thoughts?”

“I think Lt. Baumann was involved in black ops for the Air Force,” Gibbs said evenly, “And I think General O’Neill is a lot more dangerous than he seems.”

"I thought he was kind of easy-going," Vance pointed out.

"I'm sure he wanted us to _think_ that, Leon," Gibbs replied as he headed towards the door.  

“Better go pick up his people then,” Vance agreed, "Be careful. I'll make a couple calls and see if I can find out what General O'Neill does exactly." 

 

* _NCIS*SGA*NCIS*SGA*NCIS*SGA*NCIS*_

 

Tony walked up to the front desk in the hotel, Tim following neatly at his heel, a charming smile on his face as he spoke to the young brunette woman at the desk, “Hi there,” Tony dropped his gaze down to her nametag for a moment, “Claudia. Can you tell us which room Emily Jameson is staying in?”

“Just one moment, sir,” the brunette stepped away from the desk into a small office. She returned swiftly, followed closely by a short, balding man in a perfectly tailored black suit.

“My name is Charles. I am the head concierge here," the man spoke in a rich, cultured voice, "I understand you are looking for Ms. Jameson?”

“That’s right,” Tim said easily, “Could you tell us her room number?”

“Ms. Jameson and her guest have asked not to be disturbed until tomorrow afternoon,” Charles answered carefully, “You can come back at 3 pm tomorrow or I can take a message, if you would prefer.”

Tony reached into his pocket and flipped open his badge, letting the man get a good look at it, “I’m afraid we need that room number now. We’re federal agents.”

“Very well,” Charles bowed slightly, “I will escort you up to Ms. Jameson’s room.”

“That’s not necessary,” Tim insisted gently, “You can just tell us which room it is.”

“I’m afraid I must insist, Agents,” Charles came out from behind the counter, “Ms. Jameson and her guest are valued patrons of this hotel and I will not have them unduly disturbed. This way please.”

Charles led the way to a bank of elevators and pressed the button for the top floor. When the doors slid open again, he stepped out in front of the two agents and walked quietly to a room at the end of the hall. He knocked politely on the door and waited with his hands clasped behind his back until it cracked open a minute later, revealing a tall man with spiky, dark hair wearing a worn gray USAF tee shirt and a pair of black cotton pajama pants tied tight around his slim waist.

“I apologize for the intrusion, sir,” Charles apologized, “There are two federal agents here who wish to speak with Ms. Jameson. I’m afraid they insisted on seeing her immediately.”

“Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo,” Tony flipped open his badge again, “And my partner Special Agent Timothy McGee. We're from NCIS.”

“Thank you, Charles,” the spiky-haired man opened the door wider, leaning against it, “I’ll take it from here.”

“Yes, sir,” Charles bowed slightly, “Please let me know if there is anything else you or Ms. Jameson require.”

“We just ordered breakfast from room service about five minutes ago,” the spiky-haired man drawled lazily, "It looks like we're going to be going out instead. Could you let the kitchen know please? I apologize for the inconvenience."

"Of course, sir," Charles nodded, "Would you like me to call for Ms. Jameson's limo?" 

"That won't be necessary, Charles. We'll be driving this time," the spiky haired man smiled, "Thank you." 

Charles turned smartly and headed back towards the elevator. 

“Come on in then,” the spiky-haired man stepped to the side, keeping half his body behind the door as he let Tony and Tim into the room ahead of him and closed the door. 

“We’re looking for a Colonel John Sheppard and a Dr. EJ Baran,” Tony started, “Are you Colonel Sheppard?”

“I am,” Sheppard answered as the three of them came into the living room.

“Keep your hands where we can see them,” a low, feminine voice spoke from behind them, “Turn around slowly.”

Tony and Tim both turned around, keeping their hands in the air, to face a short blonde woman, dressed in a fluffy white bathrobe that covered her from neck to mid-calf, standing next to Sheppard, both of them aiming large black guns at the agents. 

“Who sent you?” Sheppard asked evenly, “And how did you know we were here?”

“We’re from NCIS,” Tim answered nervously, “We were told to come to this hotel and ask for Emily Jameson by a General O’Neill.”

"Badges out where I can see them," the blonde commanded easily, "One-handed, slowly." 

Tony and Tim reached carefully into their jacket pockets, using two fingers to pull out their badges and hold them out for Sheppard to take. 

“I got them,” the blonde said evenly, gun aimed squarely at Tim's chest, “Call Jack on speakerphone so he can verify.”

“Stay there,” Sheppard ordered firmly. He walked over to a nearby table, setting the two badges down open to the photo ID, and picking up a slim cell, all while keeping the gun aimed at Tony. He swiped a finger across the screen, hit a button, and the phone began ringing.

“ _General O’Neill_.”

“General, did you send NCIS agents to our hotel room?” Sheppard asked evenly.

“ _I did_ ,” O'Neill answered calmly, “ _Please don’t break them. If you break them, I'm making you do the paperwork_.”

Both Sheppard and the blonde woman lowered their guns.

“You could’ve warned us first,” Sheppard drawled, “We almost shot them.”

“ _I would have warned you_ ,” O'Neill said dryly, “ _If you both weren’t blocking_ all _forms of communication_.”

“What’s going on, Jack?” the woman walked over to trade her gun for the phone.

Sheppard put both guns on the table and picked up the badges, tossing them back to the two agents. 

“ _NCIS positively identified Lt. David Baumann’s body this morning_ ,” O'Neill stated evenly.

“Baumann?” Sheppard frowned, “He's one of my Marines.”

"He reports to me though," the blonde tilted her head, "Works out of my tech lab, except when he's doing follow-ups with one of the engineering teams."  

“ _Hence, NCIS agents in your hotel room_ ,” O'Neill replied matter-of-factly, “ _You’re both on loan to NCIS until this gets sorted_.”

“What about my debriefings?” the woman asked uneasily, turning away from the interested stares of Tony and Tim. 

“ _Do you want to go to those debriefings, EJ_?” O'Neill questioned softly, “ _I thought you'd be glad to have an excuse to get out of them_.” 

“I’d rather be locked in a closet with Rodney for a month, sir,” Baran replied quickly, “But I was under the impression the IOA had more questions for me and that the sessions were mandatory if I wanted to return to my former position.”

“ _I’ll take care of it_ ,” O'Neill insisted, “ _Just k_ _eep the civilians away from classified files and find out what happened to Lt. Baumann. Keep me updated_.”

“Yes, sir,” Sheppard and Baran chorused.

Baran tapped the screen of the phone and returned it to the table next to the two guns John had set down.

“I apologize for the welcome,” Baran turned to smile at Tony and Tim politely, "It's been a rough couple of weeks for us." 

“You always greet your guests at gunpoint?” Tony asked curiously, placing his badge back in his pocket. 

“Only half a dozen people on the planet know we’re at this particular hotel,” Sheppard explained easily, “And of those, only four know we’re staying under the name Emily Jameson. You can see how we might be suspicious if armed men show up at our door, knowing our full names, with no forewarning, badges or not.”

“Plus, I haven’t had any coffee yet and I've been told I'm mean when I'm un-caffeinated,” Baran shrugged, “I’m Dr. EJ Baran, this is Colonel John Sheppard. I assume we’re going back to NCIS headquarters at Quantico?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tim agreed.

“Give us five minutes to get dressed,” Sheppard headed to the bedroom.

“We’ll be right out,” Baran picked up both guns, sticking them in her robe pockets as she followed Sheppard, pulling the door shut behind her.

“Well, that was fun,” Tony huffed, “I’m not sure if I’ve ever been held at gunpoint by a woman in a fluffy bathrobe before. Guess I can take that off my bucket list.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course we have outfit links!

“Jethro.”

Gibbs looked up from the file on his desk to see Vance coming into the bullpen, a slight scowl on his face.

“Leon,” Gibbs acknowledged, not bothering to stand up, “What did you find out?”

“Not much,” Vance’s scowl deepened, “General O’Neill is the Head of Military Operations for Homeland Security. He reports directly to the President. Dr. Baran works for General O’Neill here in DC, but she's stationed at Cheyenne Mountain. Colonel Sheppard is stationed at Peterson AFB in Colorado, but he reports to a General Carter, who's also supposedly stationed at Cheyenne Mountain.”

“Anything else?” Gibbs questioned.

“Nothing,” Vance admitted, “I got shut down, fast. Whatever they’re into, no one wants to go near it.”

“Since when does Homeland Security have a 'Military Operations' division?” Gibbs wondered aloud.

“Since 2004 when the division was created,” Vance explained, looking up as the elevator dinged, “O’Neill’s been in charge since 2005.”

“Director, Boss,” Tony greeted them, “This is Colonel John Sheppard and Dr. EJ Baran.”

Vance and Gibbs looked over the two people standing in front of them. Colonel Sheppard was a tall, messy dark-haired man with intelligent hazel-green eyes. He was dressed simply in a pair of dark denim jeans, a light blue dress shirt, the top couple buttons undone, with an expensive looking pair of[ black boots ](http://www.timberland.com/templates/better-now/images/yellow-boot/boots/slides/B2.jpg)and a [soft, black leather jacket](http://www.s4g.com/assets/images/motorcycle%20jackets/armored-mens-black-leather-motorcycle-jacket_xelement_XS-105-Jacket.jpg) over a [shoulder holster ](http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_OYVhScj9PRM/TN07uZxtSMI/AAAAAAAAFUU/7Py9HdMRc04/s1600/Holster+love+3.PNG)carrying a sleek, black Colt .45. Dr. Baran was half a foot shorter than Sheppard, with long, pale blonde hair pulled back in a simple, low ponytail and wide, calm eyes an exotic shade of violet. She was dressed in a slim pair of jeans, tucked into a pair of rich [brown boots with a small heel](http://www.oershang.com/images/1/B53806.jpg) and a [deep burgundy, soft cotton scoop-necked tee shirt](http://www.wholesalermart.com/images/tops/0305/1685-wine-womens-basic-scoop-neck-longsleeve-shirt-1715.jpg), covered by a [leather jacket with textured padding on the shoulders in the same shade of wine](http://www.herworldplus.com/sites/default/files/imagecache/gallery_image/Dragon%20Tattoo%20collection%20by%20Trish%20Summerville%20for%20HM%20dark%20red%20leather%20jacket.jpg) as her shirt. There was a bulky, white cast that appeared to cover her right arm up to the elbow and a large patch around her neck of still-healing skin. She also had several thin, dark pink scars visible above the scoop neckline of her shirt and several fading bruises on her jawline, in various shades of green and yellow. 

“Sorry it took us so long to get here,” Sheppard stepped forward to shake hands with Vance.

“John made your boys stop for breakfast,” Baran rolled her eyes, “Then we had an issue with security downstairs.”

“Issue?” Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

“Minor issue,” John sighed, “Emma has four titanium pins in her arm. It set off the metal detector. They tried to pat her down and she objected. We're not used to going through security Stateside.”

“Rule number nine, Boss,” Tim explained, “Times three on her. One on him.”

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the young woman, "Don't you work out of Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado?" 

"Nope," Baran shook her head and turned her attention to Vance.

“Director Vance, it’s nice to see you again,” Baran addressed him politely, but didn't offer to shake his hand.

“You were at the Gala last month,” Vance remembered, “But you introduced yourself by another name, didn't you?”

“I was working at the time,” Baran agreed easily, “using an alias.”

“Is he…” Sheppard looked at Vance warily and trailed off as his body tensed, taking half a step in front of Baran.

“No card for him,” Baran said reassuringly, running her left hand down Sheppard's arm.  

Sheppard relaxed and resumed his position next to Baran. 

“Card?” Vance questioned.

“It means you’re tentatively someone we can trust,” Baran replied carefully, “Is there a computer around here I can use to access Baumann's file for you?”

“You can use mine,” Tim offered, motioning towards his desk.

“Thanks, Tim,” Baran smiled at him as she sat behind the desk and started typing.

“Keep me posted, Gibbs,” Vance ordered before turning to head back up the stairs to his office.

“What can you tell us about Lt. Baumann?” Gibbs asked, coming out from behind his desk, “What was he working on? And why was he in DC?”

“Here’s his partial file,” Baran announced, “The parts classified above your clearance level are still redacted, but this will give you a bit more background.”

“May I?” Tim asked and Baran vacated his chair. Tim hit a couple keys and the file came up on the large flat screen. The group gathered around and Gibbs noticed that Sheppard placed himself between Baran and everyone else.

“Baumann has been under my command,” Sheppard started, “for the past three years. He’s had a variety of duties in that time, but most recently, he’s been reporting to Dr. Baran.”

“David’s background before he joined the Marine Corps was in mechanical engineering,” Tim read off the screen, “Graduated with honors from Stanford.”

“He attended OCS here in Quantico,” Tony looked over the information, “He joined the Marine Corps in 2008. His MOS is-”

“Technically, 1302,” Baran interrupted, "Combat Engineer Officer." 

“Directly after OCS and basic training, he was transferred to Cheyenne Mountain,” Tony continued, “where he has received numerous commendations and medals for his service there.”

“The Lieutenant has been working under my supervision for the past seven months on a couple different projects,” Baran informed them, “He works part-time in one of my labs alongside five other members of the military and seven civilian scientists. I gave him and Dr. Chad Casey permission to come to DC last month to present the project they’re working on to an IOA sub-committee. They’re trying to get more funding for one of the lab's projects so they can recruit a couple civilians they think will be able to help.”

“What's the IOA?” Tim questioned. 

“A group of-” Baran started to snarl. 

“They are an international coalition of people,” Sheppard interrupted swiftly, “meant to supervise the program run out of the Mountain.” 

“Who’s Dr. Chad Casey?” Tony asked.

“A civilian involved in the program,” Baran answered almost calmly, “His file is classified as well. Chad’s background is similar to David’s, except he went to MIT and got a degree in electrical engineering.”

“What project were they presenting to the sub-committee?” Gibbs questioned, “And don’t tell me it’s classified.”

“The project _is_ classified, Agent Gibbs,” Baran shrugged, “But I can tell you they were working on designing a weapon.”

“Aw, crap,” Sheppard stuck his hands in his pockets, “They were working on Project Reverse, weren’t they?”

“I’m afraid so,” Baran sighed, “Maybe we’re _really_ lucky and that’s not what got him killed.”

“When have we _ever_ been that lucky, Emma?” Sheppard sighed, “One of us is going to have to call the IOA sub-committee to find out how their meetings went.”

“ _I’m_ certainly not going to do it. Jack promised I wouldn’t have to deal with any of those… _people_ ,” Baran spit the word like curse, “while we were working on this case. I can check out the body and see what evidence they've collected while you deal with the politicians.”

“I have a better idea,” Sheppard brightened, “Let’s have Jack do it. He deals with them all the time. _And_ he has minions to make phone calls for him.”

“Ooooo, yeah,” Baran smiled widely, pulling a slim phone from her pocket and tapping on the screen, “That’s a fantastic idea. I like the way you think, John.”

“We’d like to take a look at the body,” Sheppard turned to Gibbs, “as well as any crime scene photos and evidence you collected at the scene.”

“Should we put out a BOLO for Dr. Casey?” Tony asked Gibbs.

“You probably won't get anything from a BOLO,” Baran responded as she stuck the phone back in her jacket pocket, “Our people aren't found if they don't want to be. But we have other ways of tracking them. General O’Neill’s office is going to try to locate him first.”

“Do it anyway,” Gibbs commanded, “Dr. Baran, stay here with McGee and give him access to whatever you can on both Lt. Baumann and Dr. Casey. Colonel Sheppard, you’re with me.”

“No,” Sheppard and Baran said together.

“Excuse me?” Gibbs asked evenly.

“I already enabled access to Baumann and Casey’s redacted files from Tim’s computer,” Baran explained, “along with both of their family histories. There’s a chance that David’s death didn’t have anything to do with his work. Your agents can start going through their backgrounds while we go meet with your ME and your forensic techs.”

“There’s also a very high chance Baumann’s death had something to do with his work,” Sheppard continued, “In which case, Dr. Baran’s more qualified than I am to tell you what’s going on. However, Baumann was one of mine. I need to see him so I can tell his family what happened to him, either way.”

“You probably shouldn't call his family for another,” Baran checked her watch, “hour to give our people time to notify his parents. They live in California so there’s a three hour time difference. It’s still early there.”

“Someone from the General’s office will contact you in about twenty minutes,” Sheppard picked up where Baran left off, “with information regarding the meetings that Baumann and Casey attended. They’ll also give you their travel itinerary and any necessary details to update your BOLO if they can’t immediately locate Dr. Casey.”

“Do you two always get your way?” Gibbs looked between the two of them.

“I usually do,” Baran smirked, “It’s hit-or-miss with John.”

“Come on then,” Gibbs headed to the elevator.

 

* _NCIS*SGA*NCIS*SGA*NCIS*SGA*NCIS*_

 

“Good morning, Jethro,” Ducky called when he heard the door to autopsy open, “You’re early. I’m not quite finished with Lt. Baumann yet. I'm afraid I’m down an assistant today, as Mr. Palmer is home sick with the flu.”

“That’s all right, Duck,” Gibbs came around to stand on the opposite side of the table holding the Lieutenant's body, followed by Sheppard and Baran, “We have a couple of guests. Colonel John Sheppard and Dr. EJ Baran. They’re joining us for this investigation.”

“Hello, I’m Dr. Donald Mallard,” Ducky flipped up his clear face mask, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” Baran nodded at the same time as Sheppard.

“What can you tell us about the Lieutenant here?” Gibbs asked.

“Before his death, Lt. Baumann was in near-perfect health,” Ducky informed them, “He broke his left tibia a little over a year ago, but it has healed quite nicely since then. There are fading calluses on his hands, which seem to indicate he changed jobs about the time he broke his leg from carrying and firing a gun regularly to only semi-regularly. However, his muscle tone is excellent, so it seems he took good care of himself. His official cause of death is myocardial infarction due to massive blood loss and shock, caused by this wound,” Ducky pointed to a large burn-like area on Baumann’s right side, “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Ducky admitted, “It appears to be some sort of burn, but there are no residual traces of any other compound, organic or inorganic.  I've no idea what caused the wound.”

Baran walked around the table to stand next to Ducky, leaning over to look closely at the wound.

“Dr. Mallard,” Baran asked quietly, “Do you have an extra pair of gloves?”

“Yes, dear, right here,” Ducky offered her a box.

Baran awkwardly pulled a pair of gloves on, partially covering the cast on her right hand.  She probed the edges of the wound gently, careful not to disturb the body in any other way.

“John, reach into my coat pocket and grab my phone, would you?” she asked absently, still concentrating on the wound.

Sheppard walked around the table and did as she asked, “What’s up, Em?”

“Does this wound look familiar to you?” Baran looked up at him.

“It looks like it could be from a staff,” a slight frown creased Sheppard's forehead.

“I’m not sure though,” Baran tilted her head as she looked back at the wound, “Look at the skin around the edge. It looks too clean. Staves tend to leave a more jagged edge burn. I think this might be from one of ours, but I’ve never seen the effects on live human tissue.”

“A staff that can burn?” Ducky asked curiously. 

“Take a picture and email it to Dr. Lam, please. Ask her if she can identify which type of weapon it came from. If it’s one of ours, Carter and Lorne need to do a full inventory. Make sure they’re all accounted for or if we’re missing some. Tell them David and Chad took one for demonstration purposes, but they also had the prototype they constructed,” Baran moved up the body to the Lieutenant’s shoulder, inspecting the small incision made there, “Did you make this incision, Dr. Mallard?”

“Yes, I did,” Ducky nodded his head, “I pulled out a small metallic object that I sent up to Abby. Do you know what caused this burn?”

“Did your team recover a second metallic object at the scene?” Baran ignored the question, looking up at Gibbs, “It would've been a small cylinder, less than half an inch long. Semi-advanced tech.”  

“We did,” Gibbs agreed, “Covered in blood.”

Baran and Sheppard exchanged a quick glance, then Sheppard stepped out of the room, dialing the phone as he went.

“He put up a fight,” Baran noted as she looked over the numerous deep bruises and harsh scrapes on the body, “At least…three attackers, from the different sizes of bruising, and at least one of them had a gun. I'd say it's more likely there was five or six. Enough that they had people to grab Dr. Casey while keeping Baumann subdued. We should contact local hospitals and clinics. Whoever we’re looking for is going to have to seek some sort of medical attention for their injuries.”

“How can you know that?” Ducky asked curiously.

“I've been training David for the last year, since he finished the PT for his leg,” Baran looked over to Ducky sadly, “He carries at least two blades on him at all times and is highly skilled in several different forms of hand-to-hand combat. He’s also extremely fond of Dr. Casey. They were like brothers. He would’ve fought hard to protect Chad. There’s no way whoever killed him got away without at least one life-threatening injury.”

Sheppard came back in the room, slipping the cell phone in his pocket.

“Lam confirmed it’s one of ours, not theirs,” Sheppard informed them, “Walter's calling the City now, but it’ll take twelve hours minimum to do the inventory because a lot of people are tied up with the new off-site research facility set-up. Jack wants to know how long before Dr. Casey’s compromised.”

“What was Baumann’s time of death?” Baran looked to Ducky again.

“Approximately twenty-four hours ago,” Ducky answered succinctly.

“Chad’s had the basic SERE from the Mountain,” Baran looked at Sheppard, tilting her head to the side again, “But he’s not on a permanent team, so he never took any of the advanced courses in the City. I’d say…three days from now, four if the people who took him don't know what they're doing. If he manages to escape, he won’t contact anyone in the area because he was snatched from here. He’ll try to contact someone from the Mountain.”

“I thought you said they were weapons designers who worked out of a lab,” Gibbs asked carefully, directing his gaze to Sheppard, “Why does a civilian engineer have SERE training?”

“Everyone who works in the program, civilian and military, undergoes basic SERE training, from the people who mop the floor to the head of the entire program. We’ve learned it’s better to be safe than sorry," Sheppard looked over to Gibbs for a moment before returning his assessing gaze to Baran, "General O’Neill also said he could send Mitchell’s team out to take over for us, if you wanted. They're due back in an hour and they can be here in four.”

“What?” Baran asked curiously, “Why would he bring them in if we’re already here?”

“Because whoever has Casey is probably interrogating him,” Sheppard answered quietly, “And Jack was concerned that-”

Baran interrupted him with a flurry of rapid, angry Mandarin, snapping her gloves off, throwing them onto the table, and coming to stand in front of Sheppard.

“We’re only trying to-” Sheppard started, only to be interrupted again by more clipped words in something Eastern European, accompanied by a sharp jab to his chest.

“Emmaline, I’ve told you not to poke me,” Sheppard’s eyes narrowed. 

Baran replied in an annoyed tone, this time in German, but she lowered her hands back to her sides, clenching the fist not in a cast tightly.

“You’re ridiculous,” Sheppard shoved his hands back in his pockets angrily, “Have it your way.”

“Is there a problem?” Gibbs questioned, looking between the two of them.

“Nothing that concerns this case,” Baran answered with a final glare at Sheppard, “Lt. Baumann’s fatal wound was caused by a classified weapon. It fires a directed energy blast at the target, which is why you didn’t find any trace evidence in the wound. Baumann and Casey were working on a project to reverse engineer the weapon, since the original creators are no longer available. They were carrying one working weapon and a prototype model that may or may not be functional. Did you find any weapons at the scene?”

“We bagged a couple knives with blood on them,” Gibbs responded, “Nothing else.”

“Blood’s good,” Baran nodded, “They’re probably David’s. Hopefully, whoever killed him has a record somewhere.”

“Was there anything else, Duck?” Gibbs looked to Ducky.

“I think the young lady covered everything pertinent,” Ducky smiled at her, “I’ll have my finished report to you in a couple hours, Jethro. Abby should already be working on the samples I sent up earlier.”

“She’s our next stop,” Gibbs headed towards the door, “See you later, Ducky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple quick notes:  
> OCS stands for Officer Candidates School.  
> MOS stands for Military Occupational Specialty.  
> SERE stands for Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape.
> 
> Gibbs' rules number 9: Never go anywhere without a knife.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies if I got any of the science stuff wrong.

Sheppard and Baran followed Gibbs off the elevator, but Baran stopped after two steps, her jaw dropping open.

“Emma?” Sheppard looked at her with concern, “What’s the matter?”

Gibbs turned around to stare at the growing smile on the young woman’s face.

“She feels like...Tizzy. If Tizzy were a person and not…you know…” Baran waved a hand in a vague gesture through the air, smile brightening even further as she spoke. 

Sheppard rolled his eyes at her, “You going to be able to handle it?”

“It’s actually a good thing, John,” Baran insisted, starting towards the loud music floating through the open doorway, “It was just a little unexpected.”

“What’s a Tizzy?” Gibbs asked curiously.

“Tizzy is…” Baran and Sheppard exchanged glances, before Baran answered, “complicated.”

“At least you didn’t say classified this time,” Gibbs sighed and walked into Abby’s lab.

“Hi, Gibbs,” a cheerful woman greeted them, using a small remote to turn down the music, “And other people.”

“Those are fantastic boots,” Baran said as she came around the table.

Abby was wearing her black leather platform boots, shiny silver buckles up to her knees, with a pleated, red plaid skirt and a black tee shirt, an elaborate band logo printed across it, the entire outfit covered mostly by a clean, white lab coat. She wore her straight, black hair in high pigtails, two red bows attached at the tops, bangs straight across her forehead, and she had a decorative spiky red dog collar around her throat.

“Thanks,” Abby grinned, “That’s a really great jacket.”

“Thanks. I’m Dr. EJ Baran from DHS,” Baran introduced herself, then gestured to Sheppard, “This is Colonel John Sheppard, Air Force.”

“They’re working with us on this case,” Gibbs informed Abby, “on the Director’s orders. This is our forensic tech, Abby Scuito.”

“Nice to meet you,” Abby said happily.

“Show us what you got, Abbs,” Gibbs ordered easily.

“Would you like me to start with organic or inorganic?” Abby waved her hands over the evidence bags on the table.

“Organic,” Sheppard spoke up, “If you don’t mind.”

“I got two distinct blood samples from this knife,” Abby pointed at a blood-smeared Ka-Bar in a bag, “And three distinct samples from the smaller one.”

“That’s David’s,” Baran spoke quietly, gesturing to the smaller knife, “It was a birthday present from his team two years ago.”

“How can you tell the blood’s not all from one person?” Sheppard asked curiously.

“ABO typing,” Abby explained helpfully, “One of the samples was A-type and the other two were O-type. I’m running the specific DNA sequencing now. As soon as I separate the different types of DNA, I’ll run it through the database and see if we can get a hit. I’m also running a blood panel and tox screen on Lt. Baumann, as well as testing the blood samples collected from around the crime scene.”

“Some of those samples might match a civilian named Dr. Chad Casey,” Baran informed her, “The blood on the transmitter you guys collected should belong to Dr. Casey as well.”

“How did you know they were transmitters?” Abby asked curiously, "I only just figured that out a couple minutes ago." 

“Everyone who goes offw-...base is tagged with a subcutaneous locator beacon,” Baran explained carefully, “So we can instantly locate any of our personnel should they go missing.”

“You tag Marines like poodles?” Gibbs questioned.

“Not just the military, Agent Gibbs,” Baran turned her attention towards him, “It’s written into the contract of civilians as well. Everyone who works at our base has one. The technology is obviously classified for security reasons and very few people not directly involved with the program know about it. The transmitters are manufactured by Devlin Medical Technologies. The company's had security issues in the past, so we should probably give them a call to find out if they’ve had any more recent breaches.”

“Is it possible to use the transmitters to track where Lt. Baumann and Dr. Casey have been the last week?” Abby wondered thoughtfully.

“I’m not familiar enough with the technology to tell you for sure,” Baran admitted, “But I can have one of our techs contact you to talk about it. Was there anything else, Abby?”

“I got a couple boot prints I’m trying to match to specific boots,” Abby waved another hand over the table, before turning to the computer, “I also have several hours’ worth of footage from the security cameras that partially covered the crime scene. Here’s where things get a little weird though. Watch this.”

Abby cued up the footage and everyone moved to stand in front of the flat screen on her wall.

“Right here,” Abby started, “You see Lt. Baumann and Dr. Casey waiting in the parking garage. About ten minutes later, these six men come up to them in a black van. There isn’t really a good angle of their faces, until the end.”

“They were expected,” Baran tilted her head to the side, “Baumann's relaxed, unconcerned that these people were coming up to him and Casey.”

“They have a few words,” Abby continued, “Dr. Casey laughs at something and then brings out a funky looking thing from one of the cases…and then this happens.”

The screen showed a blast of blue energy coming from the cylindrical shaped weapon and dissipating against the wall.

“See? Weird, right?” Abby bounced excitedly as the video continued, "I mean, what kind of weapon does _that_?" 

Casey handed the weapon to Baumann, who put it back in its case, then traded Casey a second case off the ground. Casey, still obviously talking to the strange men, put it in the trunk of a nearby car, opening it up to pull out another weapon. He made several gestures to one of the men, motioning towards the new, more gun-shaped weapon. 

“There. Something happened just then,” Baran pointed towards the screen, “Baumann's getting nervous; his hand went towards where he keeps his knife and he moved the case behind him. One of the goons must've done something that didn't make sense.”

“Yeah, I see,” Sheppard scowled, “But Casey didn’t notice anything. He's still talking to the other guy." 

“That’s why Evan never cleared him for a spot on a permanent team,” Baran sighed wearily, “He gets absorbed in his work and his instincts start sucking.”

On the screen, one of the six men reached over to grip Casey’s arm and Baumann stepped closer, clearly telling the man to back off. Three of the other men pulled guns and an intense fight broke out between the men and Baumann. Casey struggled with the man holding him, eventually elbowing him hard in the stomach, breaking away from the man's grip and ducking behind a parked car. Casey started fiddling with the weapon in his hand, apparently trying to make it work. One of the men finally subdued Baumann with a hard blow to the head. Two men came around the car where Casey was hiding and he aimed the weapon at them. He pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.

“At least we know the prototype isn’t functional yet,” Sheppard drawled quietly.

One of the men reached down to the first case, opening it to pull out the working weapon as Casey was brought around to the black van. Casey started struggling harder and Baumann roused long enough to get to his knees and stab the closest man in the thigh with his Ka-Bar, then threw the knife at one of the men holding Casey. It struck the man on the outside of his shoulder and clattered to the ground, making the man bleed heavily, but not loosening his grip on Casey enough for him to get free again. The man with the working weapon aimed it at Baumann and fired a blast into his side. Baumann fell to the ground and Casey screamed, trying to get to his friend. He was held tight by two of the less-injured men while the man who appeared to be in charge pulled out a small electronic device and ran it up Casey's body. 

“What’s he looking for?” Sheppard wondered aloud.

“Listening and tracking devices,” Baran answered softly, “He wasn’t expecting David to fight back. I don't think they intended to kill anyone, only kidnap the two of them and take the weapon.”

The man stopped at Casey's shoulder, pulling out a knife to slice the fabric open. Seeing only skin, he spoke a few words to Casey before he ran the device over his shoulder again. Casey appeared to mumble a few words before slumping down in defeat as he looked over to Baumann's still body. The man used his knife to make a cut in Casey's shoulder, digging around until the transmitter popped out and fell to the ground. The men holding Casey threw him into the back of the van with their injured companions before getting in themselves. The man put the device back in his pocket, then pulled open the passenger side door, climbed in, and the van took off. There were a couple seconds of video before he got into the van that showed his face in full profile, where Abby rewound and paused the footage. 

"This is the best image I could find," Abby said. 

“John,” Baran turned towards Sheppard, “I’m going to say something and you’re not going to get mad when I finish, okay?”

Sheppard narrowed his eyes at her, “I’ll try.”

“I'm fairly sure," Baran said calmly, "that the goons were some of Fuentes’ boys.”

“They’re _what_?” Sheppard asked harshly.

“Keep calm, _carissime_ ,” Baran stepped close and put her left hand on Sheppard’s chest, “I’m almost positive this has nothing to do with me. It looks like Fuentes loaned out some of his boys for muscle. The man who pulled the tracker from Chad's arm works for one of Fuentes business associates, Michael Connolly. Connolly is the CEO and owner of a seemingly legitimate weapons design and manufacturing firm. According to several ATF sources, however, Connolly keeps Fuentes’ crew updated about all new weapons. I think one of the engineers that Casey wanted to recruit might be employed at Connolly's company. That must be how Connolly learned about the weapon. I assume they used the secretive nature of the project to get Baumann to agree to meet them in a mostly empty parking garage.” [Latin: dear one]

“You know who killed Baumann?” Gibbs asked carefully.

“I don’t know the man's name,” Baran dropped her hand back to her side, turning to answer Gibbs, “But I know his face. The idiots who got their asses kicked belong to a prolific international arms dealer named Alejandro Fuentes. He works mainly out of the East Coast, but he has holdings all over the country. He's slippery though, and unfortunately quite intelligent, so no one's been able to pin anything concrete on him yet. John and I have had recent dealings with him.”

“That’s kind of an understatement, Emmaline,” Sheppard rumbled lowly, "He nearly killed you."

“I tried about six years ago to connect Connolly to Fuentes,” Baran continued, ignoring Sheppard's statement, “But Connolly keeps himself well insulated. He always sends one of his employees to deal with Alejandro, the two never have any direct contact. Fuentes is paying him for information somehow, but my mission was changed before I could figure out how.”

“Mission?” Gibbs gave her a hard stare, “I thought you were a doctor of some sort, working out of a lab.”

“Part of my duties on base include supervising a couple labs. I have PhDs in linguistics and advanced cryptography,” Baran replied evenly, “But I have other skills as well.”

“Other skills?” Gibbs questioned.

“Fuentes is still in the hospital,” Sheppard deflected, “We should go question him.”

“ _We_ aren’t going,” Baran insisted, glancing at Sheppard out of the corner of her eye, “ _I’m_ going.”

“You’re not going to be alone in a room with him,” Sheppard commanded angrily.

“He won’t talk if you're there, Sheppard,” Baran replied calmly, “And you know that.”

“Why won’t the arms dealer talk to him?” Abby asked from behind the computer, ignoring the obvious tension in the room.

“Because John’s the one who put him in the hospital in the first place,” Baran turned to Abby, “and Alejandro tends to hold a grudge. One of our techs will call soon to help you with the transmitters. This security footage is extremely classified, so someone will be stopping by to make your entire team sign non-disclosure agreements. They’ve agreed not to take the case away from NCIS for now, but they do want copies of all reports. The tech will have a secure email address for you to send everything,” Baran turned back to Gibbs, “Is anyone on your team fluent in Spanish?”

“DiNozzo is,” Gibbs responded easily.

“Emmaline, even if he-” Sheppard started.

“Do you trust Agent DiNozzo?” Baran held Gibbs stare, interrupting whatever Sheppard started to say. 

“I do,” Gibbs nodded, “He’s a good agent.”

Baran turned back to Sheppard and raised a single eyebrow at him. The two stared at each other for a full minute, appearing to have an entire conversation with their eyes, expressions flying over both their faces rapidly before Sheppard finally sighed.

“Fine, _dulcis_ ,” Sheppard agreed quietly, “Just be careful, please.” [Latin: sweet, beloved]

"I'll be fine. You worry too much," Baran stepped close to Sheppard and leaned up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Do not," Sheppard sulked.   

“I’d like Tony to go with me to speak with Señor Fuentes,” Baran addressed Gibbs again, “If that’s all right with you. He’s at Georgetown University Hospital. John can stay here to help with the case details.”

“I’ll let DiNozzo know when we’re back upstairs,” Gibbs agreed.

“And I’ll need Dr. Mallard to remove the cast on my arm,” Baran continued, “Fuentes will take it as a sign of weakness if he sees it and we won’t get the information we need from him.”

“Didn’t Colonel Sheppard say you had four pins in your arm?” Gibbs questioned, “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“The cast is supposed to come off in a couple days anyway,” Baran shrugged, “I’d take it off myself, but John will get cranky if I do.”

“That's not at _all_ why I'm upset, Emma,” Sheppard rolled his eyes.

“We can head back to autopsy before we go upstairs,” Gibbs decided, “Was there anything else, Abbs?”

“Not until I finish running my tests,” Abby shook her head.

“You know, Abby,” Baran came back around to stand by the taller woman, “If you ever get tired of working here, I’d love for you to come work for us. You would be a fantastic addition to-”

“No, Emma,” Sheppard took her by the elbow and started walking her towards the door.

“But she’s-” Baran looked back over her shoulder at Abby.

“No.”

“But we can-”

“No.”

“But Joooooooooooohn,” Baran pouted up at him as they got to the door.

“Do you _want_ Gibbs to shoot you?” Sheppard sighed as they left the room.

Abby grinned, “I like them.”

“I can’t tell if they’re really smart or really dumb,” Gibbs looked at the doorway they had left through.

“Both,” Abby declared easily, “You wouldn’t really shoot them if they offered me a job...would you?”

“Let me know when you get results,” Gibbs kissed Abby’s cheek.

“Would you?” Abby called after him as he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided that the Ancient weapons shown on the show had to have more than one power setting if they were used in the war with Wraith. I mean, let's be honest, would you want to stun a Wraith or kill it?  
> Here's a link to an image of the Lantean energy weapons - http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20080502224700/stargate/images/f/fd/Lantian_Weapon.jpg


	4. Chapter 4

“Before we go in here, Tony,” Baran spoke quietly as she stepped off the elevator, “There’s a couple things you should know about Fuentes.”

“Sure,” Tony responded easily.

Baran stopped just before they got to the nurses desk, “He is very intelligent, even though he may act like a thug sometimes. He's ruthless and efficient in everything he does. He's operated his business out of the States for the past ten years without getting caught. Don’t underestimate him for any reason. He’s also a sadist who has a preference for hurting young blonde women.”

“Like you,” Tony replied with a sudden understanding.

“Like me,” Baran agreed with a short nod, “which is why my former employers sent me to deal with him six years ago. He’s going to say some things about me that are highly classified and quite personal. I’m going to ask you not to repeat any of it to anyone outside your team. I understand that you don’t want to keep secrets from them and I respect that. I'm probably going to have to share the rest of my files on Fuentes anyway. He thinks I'm a mercenary by the name of Eva Martinez, so either use that or don’t refer to me by name at all.”

“Eva Martinez, got it,” Tony nodded.

“And Tony?” Baran started walking towards one of the rooms, “As tempting as it may be, don’t draw your gun when he threatens me, it'll only make him more difficult to deal with. I can handle him.”

“Wait, what?” Tony asked curiously as they came up to two large men standing outside a private room.

“Ms. Martinez and Special Agent DiNozzo to see Señor Fuentes,” Baran announced calmly.

“ _Señor Fuentes no desea ver todos los visitantes en este momento_ ,” the larger of the two men spoke gruffly. [Spanish: Mr. Fuentes doesn’t wish to see any visitors at the moment.]

“That’s too bad, isn’t it?” Baran smiled dangerously, “Either you let us in to see him or I slit your throat here in the hallway and walk past your corpse. _Su elección_.” [Spanish: Your choice.]

“ _El agente federal de pie detrás de usted no permitiría que tal cosa_,” the second man spoke, “Not to mention we are in full view of three security cameras and a dozen hospital employees.” [Spanish: The federal agent standing behind you would not allow such a thing.]

“ _Soy Caos_ ,” Baran stepped forward menacingly, “ _Cree usted que nada de eso me va a detener_?” [Spanish: I am Chaos. Do you think any of that will stop me?]

The two men guarding the room exchanged worried glances.

“I see Alejandro has told you about me. Good,” Baran nodded as she stepped past them, “See that we're not disturbed. This way, Agent DiNozzo.”

Tony followed her into the room to see a man with caramel colored skin dressed in thin hospital gown, his right arm in a sling, the shoulder heavily bandaged, and his left leg propped up on a small triangle pillow, also heavily bandaged, reading from a slim tablet held in his free hand.

As soon as the man saw Baran, he dropped the tablet on his bed, pulling a gun out from underneath his pillow and letting out a violent string of Spanish curses as he aimed it at her, flicking off the safety. Tony’s hand went towards his gun, but he didn’t draw it, remembering Baran’s warning.

“Now, Alejandro,” Baran stepped close enough that the gun was inches from her chest, sticking her right hand in her coat pocket for a second, “We both know you’re not going to shoot me.”

“I am considering it, _puta bonita_ ,” Fuentes growled. [Spanish: pretty bitch]

“It would be highly unsatisfying for you,” Baran insisted, “If you wanted to kill me quickly, you would’ve done it at the club last month. I know you prefer a more… _hands on_ approach.”

After a heavy pause, Fuentes flicked the safety back on the gun and laid it on the bed next to his injured leg.

“When I kill you, _gatita_ ,” Fuentes said evenly, “and someday I will; I will take days to do so.” [Spanish: kitten]

“Perhaps now would be a good time to introduce my colleague,” Baran motioned towards Tony, “Alejandro, this is Special Agent DiNozzo, NCIS. DiNozzo, this is Alejandro Fuentes, international arms dealer.”

“Since when do Navy cops hang out with assassin whores like you?” Fuentes scoffed, “You didn’t bring your lover this time, Eva? I confess I am a bit disappointed. I owe him for my leg. Did you manage to displease him so much that he abandoned you so soon? If you kept your lovers satisfied, _gatita_ , they would not leave you so often.”

“I assure you, John and I are still on good terms, Alejandro,” Baran took half a step closer, “But if he had come here, you would've been dead as soon as you drew your little gun. He developed a deep hatred of you at our last meeting. I decided to do you a favor by bringing Agent DiNozzo instead.”

“Tell me, Agent DiNozzo,” Fuentes directed his attention to Tony for the first time, giving him a sneering smile as he spoke, “Did Eva tell you she was my pet, letting me do _anything_ I pleased to her, wherever and whenever I wanted? After spending three months accommodating my _every desire_ , she repaid my kindness by murdering my baby brother in cold blood. Then she vanished, _poof_ , like magic, into thin air, only to return to me last month, begging me for a job, offering up her body in exchange for my mercy.”

“I’m sure she has her reasons,” Tony shrugged.

“I need some information from you,” Baran drew Fuentes’ attention back to her.

“Why would I _ever_ help you?” Fuentes sneered at her.

“Because you are a businessman, Señor Fuentes,” Baran replied evenly, “And I have enough information to make your life very difficult. I wonder what the Colombian rebels you sold guns to would say if they knew you were also supplying the very government they are fighting against. Or what the American government would say if they knew you sold weapons to terrorist groups responsible for the deaths of US troops in the Middle-East.”

“You assume these people don’t already know this information or that any of it can be proven,” Fuentes said flippantly, “You also assume that I scare easily, _gatita_.  I do not.”

“But you _are_ scared. You seem to have forgotten, I know when people lie to me, as you are attempting to do now,” Baran continued coolly, “I don't have to _prove_ anything, Alejandro, I only have to drop a word in the right person's ear. The lifestyle to which you have become accustomed would be quite difficult to manage from Gitmo. That’s where they send terrorists, you know.”

“And if Ms. Martinez’ intel is correct,” Tony interjected, “which I’m sure it is; you’ll be on a one-way flight there within the hour.”

“All information can be bought at a price, _gatita_ ,” Fuentes replied smoothly, “I would be willing to make a deal with you, if you would keep such information private." 

“What kind of deal did you have in mind?” Baran asked calmly.

“We’ll play one of your favorite games,” Fuentes broke into an evil smile, “ _Una respuesta por respuesta_.” [Spanish: An answer for an answer.]

“Acceptable,” Baran nodded once, “The same rules as always apply. Truthful answers only. Would you like to start or shall I?”

“Since you are the one seeking information from me,” Fuentes responded carefully, “I shall start. Who ordered my brother’s death? I know you did not make the decision to kill him on your own.”

“I don’t know which particular agent gave the order, but it was given to me by a joint task force of the ATF and FBI,” Baran explained, “Do you still have business dealings with Michael Connolly’s company?”

“I do,” Fuentes agreed, “Michael supplies me with designs for new weapons invented by his R&D department so I am the first to offer them on the black market and in turn I make sure he gets a small percentage of every sale generated by those designs. Were you ordered to approach me _specifically_ six years ago or was the decision your choice?”

“It was both,” Baran admitted with a shrug, “My employer knew you preferred blonde women in your games and I knew you would be suspicious of someone approaching your brother instead of you. What is the name of the intermediary you use when dealing with Connolly?”

“I know him only as Frederick. I don’t know if that is truly his name or simply what Connolly calls him,” Fuentes narrowed his eyes at Baran, “Are you truly as submissive as you present yourself or was that simply another ruse to draw me in?”

“I’m not sure what that has to do with anything, Alejandro,” Baran stiffened.

“You know the rules, _gatita_ ,” Fuentes spoke with an evil grin, “Answer my question or we’re done.”

“The answer is more complicated than you think. Both statements are accurate,” Baran admitted, “With you, I never went fully under. I would never trust you that way. I enjoy being on the other side very occasionally, but I kept that part hidden to keep you interested, since you only ever desire being _in_ control. Did you order the kidnapping of a civilian by the name of Dr. Chad Casey?”

“The name does sound very familiar,” Fuentes pursed his lips, “I ordered some of my men to accompany Frederick and help him to acquire a couple of engineers that were sniffing around Connolly’s company. I believe one of them is your Dr. Casey. The other was military, if I remember correctly, a Lieutenant Baumann. The wound around your neck," Fuentes motioned with his hand, "it looks to be from a collar and there are healing marks from a very sharp implement visible on your chest, bruises pressed into your delicate skin.”

“That’s not a question,” Baran’s expression shuttered instantly, her face going carefully blank.

“Did your _lover_ give them to you?” Fuentes asked silkily, “You told me that he was not your new Master, but it appears _someone_ enjoyed marking your beautiful body, so now I think you may have lied to me about him.”

“John did not give them to me,” Baran answered in an even tone, “Do you know where Frederick is holding the new engineers?”

“Not exactly. Frederick also asked to borrow one of my facilities to question them. I gave him the addresses of half a dozen places that would suit his needs,” Fuentes explained, “ _Su amante matar al hombre que te dañó sin permiso_?” [Spanish: Did your lover kill the man who damaged you without permission?]

“ _No lo hizo. Me tiro de rodillas antes de que yo le rompí por completo_,” Baran responded calmly, holding out a hand to Tony, “I need your notepad please.” [Spanish: He did not. I shot his knees out before I broke him completely.]

Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black notebook with an attached pen, handing it over to Baran.

“Would you please write down the addresses you gave Frederick, Mr. Fuentes?” Baran opened the notebook to an empty page before handing it to Fuentes.

“Of course, _gatita bonita_ ,” Fuentes began writing, “Will you tell me the story of your injuries? I’m sure there is a fascinating story behind them. I’d love to hear _all_ the _bloody_ details.” [Spanish: pretty kitten]

“I will not,” Baran took the notebook when he was finished and handed it back to Tony, “We’re done here. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Fuentes.”

“If we meet again, Eva,” Fuentes spoke as she turned towards the door, “I will try to kill you however I can, quick or not.”

“Likewise, Alejandro,” Baran stuck her right hand back in her coat pocket, “And I’m a much better killer than you.”

Tony followed Baran silently out of the hospital and back to his car. He pulled out of the parking garage and onto the street before he spoke again.

“Are you good?” Tony asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” Baran insisted flatly as she stared out her window.

"I'm not," Tony gave an exaggerated shiver, "That guy gave me the creeps. He's like every bad-guy, arms-dealer stereotype all rolled into one slimy package."

"At least he didn't start a gunfight in the middle of the hospital," Baran deadpanned, "That would've been too big of a cliché even for me."

"There is that," Tony smirked.

Baran turned to consider his profile as he drove, “We need to make a stop. I have to pick up a file.”

“Sure,” Tony agreed, “Where we going? Somewhere fun this time, like an Italian restaurant run by the mob, maybe?”

“Sorry to disappoint, Tony, I only know Russian mobsters in this area. We're going to General O’Neill’s house,” Baran gave him the address before turning back to stare out the window, a small smile on her face now.

 

* _NCIS*SGA*NCIS*SGA*NCIS*SGA*NCIS*_

 

“Is the General here now?” Tony asked as they came up to the front steps.

“Nope,” Baran held out her hand, “I need your lock-picks. I left mine at home.”

Tony reached into his jacket pocket, handing her the set, “You’re breaking into your boss’s house?”

“Yup,” Baran knelt in front of the door. Ten seconds later the door swung open and an alarm started beeping.

“Don’t suppose you know the code either,” Tony followed her inside, shutting the door behind him.

“Nope,” Baran stepped in front of the security panel, using the end of one of the picks to pop it open. She used the edge of the pick to strip a couple wires and twisted them together before snapping the panel back on, punching in a simple ‘1,2,3,4,5’. The beeping stopped as the system turned green.

“This way,” Baran handed him his lock-pick set back and walked further into the house. 

Tony followed her with a surprised smirk as she made her way to a small study. She crouched down to turn a small dial on the bottom drawer of a large metal file cabinet. After entering the right combination, she opened the drawer and started moving things around.

“He moved it,” Baran frowned, sitting back on her heels and pulling her phone out of her coat pocket. She swiped across the phone and it began ringing out loud.

“ _General O’Neill’s office, Master Sergeant Thomas speaking_.”

“It’s Colonel Baran again,” Baran said evenly, “Put him on the phone.”

“ _He’s on the phone with General Landry right now, Colonel Baran_ ,” Thomas informed her, “ _May I take a message_?”

“Tell him I’m in his house,” Baran smiled widely, "and if he keeps ignoring me, I'm going for his fishing gear."

“... _Please hold, ma’am_ ,” Thomas said nervously.

“Colonel?” Tony wondered aloud, “I thought you were a doctor.”

“I’m usually both, but my status as a Colonel is somewhat in question at the moment due to recent events,” Baran shrugged, "I have dual PhD's and a special commission in the Marine Corps through DHS." 

“ _Did you break into my house, EJ_?” O’Neill’s wary voice came over the phone.

“I told you this particular alarm system sucks,” Baran pointed out, “I broke it again. You're going to need a new one.”

“ _I thought your husband was supposed to be watching you_ ,” O’Neill sighed heavily, “ _Do I need to assign you a different baby-sitter_?”

“I keep trying to tell you I don't need a keeper to begin with, Jack,” Baran pouted, “John was _watching_ me until I saw the security footage from where Baumann was killed and Casey was taken. I recognized some of the thugs as Fuentes’ boys. It looks like he's at least partially responsible for Baumann's death. I just got back from questioning him at the hospital.”

“ _Colonel Baran_ ,” O’Neill’s voice hardened, “ _Tell me you did not go talk to that asshole by yourself. I’m quite positive we had a discussion, very recently as a matter of fact, about you being part of a team and_ not _going off on your own to do_ stupid things _._ ”

“I didn’t go by myself, sir,” Baran straightened her posture even though O’Neill couldn’t see her, “I was accompanied by NCIS Agent DiNozzo. Say hi, Tony.”

“Hello, General O'Neill,” Tony complied easily, “I was with Colonel-Dr. Baran the whole time, sir. She was never alone with Mr. Fuentes.”

“I recorded the entire conversation on my phone, sir,” Baran informed O'Neill, “I’ll send you the recording when we get back to Quantico.”

“ _Was the visit worthwhile, Colonel_?” O’Neill questioned evenly, " _Or just an exercise in pushing the limits of my patience with you_?" 

“We obtained six possible addresses of Dr. Casey’s location, sir,” Baran reported, “Fuentes threatened to kill me twice during the conversation, which is par for the course. He also implicated himself in the kidnapping, as well as confirming that he regularly has illegal business dealings with Michael Connolly.”

“ _Oh, he did, did he_?” O’Neill asked cheerfully, “ _I don’t suppose you told him that because of the program Lt. Baumann and Dr. Casey are involved in making those admissions was tantamount to international espionage, which if I remember correctly, carries an extremely hefty sentence_.”

“I may have accidently left that part out, sir,” Baran admitted with glee, “You can send people to pick his stupid ass up as soon as we locate Dr. Casey.”

“ _I’m not mad at you anymore, EJ,_ ” O’Neill declared suddenly, “ _In fact, I think I might owe you a beer_.”

“If you’ll tell me where you put my file,” Baran smiled, “so I can retrieve the data on my previous dealings with both Fuentes and Connolly, I believe NCIS will have enough information to take down most, if not all of his organization. In the interest of self-preservation, I'm sure several of them would be more than happy to roll over on Connolly, so we can throw him in the hole next to Fuentes."

“ _I take it back, I owe you an entire case. Nice job, kid,_ ” O’Neill laughed, “ _It’s in the false bottom of my underwear drawer._ ”

“Your underwear drawer?” Baran scrunched up her nose, “Seriously, Jack?”

“ _Who’d think to look for it there_?” O’Neill asked, “ _L_ _ock the door when you leave_.”

“Like that will make a difference,” Baran snorted as she hung up the phone.


	5. Chapter 5

“You got any ibuprofen handy, McGee?” John looked up from the computer screen.

“Yeah, I’ve got some in my desk,” Tim pulled open a drawer, “Getting a headache from looking at the screen for too long? That happens to me sometimes.”

“It’s not for me,” John stood up and walked over to Tim, “Emma's on her way up and I left our bag in the car.” 

“How do you know she's on her way up?” Tim asked curiously as he opened the small bottle. 

The elevator dinged five seconds later. Tony and EJ came out, carrying several bags of Chinese food, laughing as they came into the bullpen.

“We brought lunch,” Tony set the bags down on his desk, “Where’s the boss man?”

“He’s upstairs talking to Vance. You’ve been gone over four hours, Tony,” Tim scowled as he closed his desk drawer, “Where have you been?”

John walked over and held out the two small pills to EJ. He glared at her until she mumbled under her breath in Japanese and took the pills, swallowing them dry as Tony answered.

“We were at the hospital,” Tony handed Tim a carton and set of chopsticks, turning back around to take his own container of food from his desk, “talking to that sleaze-ball Fuentes. Guy's a real piece of work. I feel like I need to take a shower after being in the same room as him. He has a nine millimeter under his pillow while he's in a hospital bed. Who does that?”

“Yeah, really, who does that?” EJ agreed evenly, “Anything less than a forty caliber isn't worth the effort.”

“Exactly...wait, _what_?” Tony lost his train of thought as he looked at EJ. 

“What?” EJ asked with an innocent smile.

“Never mind,” Tony shook his head and turned back to Tim, “After the hospital, we broke into General O’Neill’s house so EJ could pick up her files on Fuentes and Connolly. That didn’t work out so well, though, because the General doesn’t like technology all that much. We had to drive to the store to get a flash drive to store the files, then drive all the way back to the house to actually transfer them. Then after we were done with that, we decided to stop for food since it's getting late and none of us have eaten since we stopped this morning. Hope you're okay with Chinese.”

“You broke into a three-star General’s house, DiNozzo?” Gibbs said from behind Tony, startling the younger man when he spoke. 

“Course not, Boss,” Tony denied quickly, not turning around, “I think, technically, it’s considered a condo. Colonel-Dr. Baran picked the lock and disabled the security system all by herself. I was just along for the tour.”

“You broke into Jack’s house _again_?” John questioned, an amused look on his face. 

“It’s okay,” EJ handed him a container, “He knows. I called to let him know he had to replace his piece of crap alarm system and I locked the door when we left.”

“Colonel?” Gibbs asked as he took his own container and the fork Tony offered.

“It’s complicated but, yes, I’m also a Colonel. I prefer to go by EJ. Much simpler than trying to keep all my titles straight,” EJ shrugged before taking out her phone and small flash drive from her coat pocket, “There’s an audio file on the phone of my conversation with Fuentes. It contains some sensitive information, so please be discreet with it, Tim. The flash drive contains all my previous intel on both Alejandro Fuentes' organization and Michael Connolly's company.”

Tim took both the objects from EJ and started pulling up the information on his screen.

“This is…” Tim trailed off as he saw the amount of information contained on the flash drive, “extremely comprehensive. How did you get all this?”

“We got a name for the guy who killed Lt. Baumann,” Tony ignored Tim’s question, “Fuentes said he was only referred to as ‘Frederick’. Supposedly, he works for Connolly’s company somewhere. We also got six possible addresses for where they're holding Dr. Casey.”

“You’re just telling us this _now_ , DiNozzo?” Gibbs asked incredulously.

“Well, EJ said that…” Tony looked over to her for help.

“We can’t raid the buildings until our men-” EJ started.

“My men,” John interjected.

“Colonel Sheppard's men,” EJ continued with an eye-roll, “finish their inventory. We need to make sure that Frederick doesn’t have access to any more classified weaponry before we go in to avoid any unnecessary casualties.”

“He has a civilian hostage,” Gibbs scowled.

“I consider Dr. Casey a friend and I know him pretty well,” EJ spoke carefully, “He’s an absolutely brilliant engineer and not just with weapons. He’s been dating Dr. Jason Kessler for the past eight months; they’re thinking about getting married next time they’re both on leave. He sends the majority of his paycheck home to his little sister to help pay her tuition for medical school at Johns Hopkins, where she is in the top ten percent of her class. I also know that David would be willing to endure a short time in captivity to ensure that an international arms dealer and the man who helps supply him are put away for the rest of their natural lives. Eight more hours will not damage him irreversibly.”

“How would you know?” Gibbs dropped the food carton onto Tony’s desk and stepped closer to EJ, “How do you know that this won’t break his mind completely?”

“I know _exactly_ what the average human body can withstand,” EJ’s voice grew harsh, “and I know _exactly_ what Dr. Casey’s limits are, what he’s capable of. He will recover from this.”

“So you’re going to let your so-called friend be tortured for information,” Gibbs narrowed his eyes, “just for the sake of putting away a couple of bad guys?”

“I’m going to make sure what Chad has _already_ endured serves a purpose,” EJ spoke through a clenched jaw, volume growing louder as she continued, “If we don’t do this right, David’s sacrifice and Chad’s pain are for _nothing_. What he is going through right now is nothing close to torture. I guarantee he's been through worse in his SERE course at the Mountain. The people holding him need him in relatively good condition to be able to continue his work on the prototype weapon.”

“No, they don’t,” Gibbs stepped into EJ’s space, glaring down at her, “They can kill him and kidnap a different engineer or give the prototype to someone in Connolly’s company to figure out.”

“Not if they want to offer the weapon on the market in the next two years, they can’t,” EJ practically yelled in Gibbs' face, “The technology behind the weapon and the prototype are beyond the understanding of ninety-eight percent of the planet’s population. I’ve had a team of a dozen of the best scientists the planet has to offer working on a prototype for seven months and they still haven’t made it work. Chad and David were here to recruit even _more_ engineers in an effort to make the  _glupaya veshch'_ function. I find it nearly impossible to believe that anyone working for Fuentes or Connolly can make it work by themselves in the incredibly short amount of time they will be holding Dr. Casey.” [Russian: stupid thing]

“They already have one working weapon,” Gibbs said evenly, “Why take the chance of them replicating it? Why make Dr. Casey go through the ordeal?”

“ _Nikto na Zemle ne mozhet povtorit' yego_ ,” EJ insisted loudly, “The technology here is too-”  [Russian: No one on Earth can replicate it.]

“Emmaline,” John interrupted, taking hold of her arm and turning her to face him.  

“ _YA v poryadke_ , Sheppard,” EJ pulled her arm away from his grip. [Russian: I am fine]

John spoke quietly to her in what sounded like bastardized Latin, pulling her close to him with a hand on the back of her neck. EJ took a deep breath and nodded, speaking in the same odd language before stepping around John to walk towards the women’s bathroom. John waited until she disappeared from view before he spoke again.  

“I apologize for Colonel Baran’s reaction, Agent Gibbs,” John said neutrally, “but she’s right. There’s a very good reason our base was assigned the weapons project. Colonel Baran is one of very few experts in the technology that the classified weapon represents and she hand-picked each of the scientists working in her lab, including Dr. Casey and Lt. Baumann. She takes David’s death personally and she understands what Chad’s going through better than anyone. My XO has three platoons working on the inventory now. As soon as it’s done, we can move on the locations. I’m not willing to risk the lives of your people by going in before it’s done. It’s not just Fuentes and Connolly that we’re going after for this. If this goes right, we take down Fuentes’ entire organization. None of them will ever see the light of day again.”

“Are the two of you involved romantically?” Gibbs asked shrewdly.

“She’s my wife,” John answered cautiously, “Not that it’s any business of yours. Nor does it have any bearing on this case.”

“It becomes my business when she goes off like a loose cannon,” Gibbs asserted, “and you have to calm her down.”

“You baited her into reacting like that,” John rolled his eyes, “just like you’re testing me now, because your Director has been unable to find any useful information about either of us, which is exactly what I told her. You assume that you have a pretty good handle on me because I’m a USAF Colonel, a known variable. Emma is still a mystery for you, however, so you decided to test out the unknown variable in the equation, hoping she would reveal classified information about the case because you believe she knows more than she’s saying.”

“Does she?” Gibbs inquired, “Know more?”

“About what, Agent Gibbs?” John responded wryly, “Because Colonel Baran always knows more than she says out loud.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Gibbs wondered.

“Em doesn’t have to say anything to me,” John smiled easily, “I understand that you don’t like working with people that you’re unsure of, but I’d recommend that you stop trying to push her. Unfortunately, you picked a bad time to annoy her.”

“Annoy her?” Gibbs raised his eyebrows, “I’d say she was pretty damn pissed.”

“If she was really pissed,” John drawled, “you'd have a broken nose. She also wouldn’t have used a language that she knew you would understand.”

“How would she know that I understand Russian?” Gibbs questioned.

“Because Emma doesn’t like to work with people she doesn’t know either,” John shrugged, “O’Neill pulled your team’s files this morning at her request and his access is a helluva lot higher than yours.”

“You’re a lot smarter than you look,” Gibbs admitted warily.

“I get that more often than you think,” John grinned.

“This doesn’t make the situation with Dr. Casey okay,” Gibbs insisted.

“No one ever said it was okay,” John maintained, “But this is a trade that any of my people, including Dr. Casey, would willingly make.”

“You two are awfully callous about the people who work for you,” Gibbs pronounced evenly.

“It may seem that way to you,” John’s expression hardened, “but it’s not. I don’t ask anything of anyone under my command that I wouldn’t ask of myself. Each and every one of them knows that I will do everything in my power to make sure they make it home safe at the end of the day, even if that means I die in their place. The same goes for Colonel Baran. We take care of ours. Dr. Casey knows someone is coming for him and he knows that he’ll be taken care of afterwards.”

“Uhhh, Boss?” Tim interrupted uneasily.

“What, McGee?” Gibbs turned his attention to where Tim was sitting.

“You might want to take a look at the files on Fuentes,” Tim looked between John and Gibbs nervously, “There’s some things you should…probably see…”

“It’s all right, Tim,” EJ came back into the bullpen, “John already knows everything.”

“You good?” John narrowed his eyes at EJ.

“Fine, _carissime_ ,” EJ replied carefully, “Under control.”

“Eat something or I’ll tell Carolyn you took your cast off early,” John motioned to the abandoned food as EJ stuck her tongue out at him, “I take it you included the video files on Fuentes?”

“I had to,” EJ sighed as she picked up a carton of noodles, “A lot of my intel came firsthand from Alejandro. The information doesn’t exist anywhere else but my brain. Tim, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t play any of the videos on the big screen. They’re…not meant for public viewing.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tim nodded.

“EJ, please Tim, not ma'am. Your team should keep in mind,” EJ looked around at the group, “those videos are my past. That’s not what I do anymore. I do not need, nor want, any pity from any of you.”

“Do the videos have anything to do with what Fuentes was asking about in the hospital?” Tony asked cautiously.

“Let’s just say,” EJ walked around to stand behind Tim’s desk, breaking apart her chopsticks, “My former employers kept meticulous records.”

“I’m going to start working on finding out who this ‘Frederick’ is,” John took a seat at the empty desk across from Tony.  

Tony joined EJ behind Tim’s desk, easily changing the subject, “So how many languages do you speak, EJ? I've heard at least three different ones today.”

“There are approximately 6,500 spoken languages in the world today,” EJ looked over to Tony, “Of those 6,500, about 2,000 of them are spoken by less than 1,000 people each. I am fluent in sixty-three languages, conversational in twenty-four, can get by in thirteen, and have a basic understanding in an additional thirty-one.”

Tim turned around in his chair to join Tony in staring at the calm expression on EJ’s face.

“ _Seriously_?” Tony gaped after a minute.  

“Yeah, seriously,” EJ looked over to John, “Do I have something on my face? They’re looking at me funny.”

“Most people don’t know a hundred and thirty one languages, Emma,” John smothered a smile, “That’s a ridiculously high number. You’ve been spending too much time around Daniel.”

“ _How_?” Tim asked curiously.

“I’m pretty smart,” EJ shrugged, “and I have a really good memory.”

 

* _NCIS*SGA*NCIS*SGA*NCIS*SGA*NCIS*_

 

“I think I found him,” John looked up from the computer several hours later, “Rudolph Frederick. He’s listed in Connolly’s employment records as ‘Security Consultant’. He’s been working for Connolly for the past ten years.”

“McGee,” Gibbs looked to the younger man.

“Finding background on Rudolph Frederick, Boss,” Tim started typing furiously on his computer.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs looked over to where Tony was already grabbing his phone.

“Connecting Frederick to Connolly to Fuentes, Boss,” Tony started dialing.

“ATF and FBI have already been contacted,” EJ informed them from her chair next to John, “They’re waiting on our signal to start rounding up people. Will NCIS have enough agents to search all six potential locations at the same time or do I need to have General O’Neill send the units we have on stand-by?”

“How soon can your units get to the locations?” Gibbs questioned.

John and EJ exchanged a quick glance, “We can have men at any of the six locations in twenty minutes.”

“We’re still waiting on the inventory from the City though,” John said thoughtfully.

“They have another,” EJ looked at her watch, “two hours. Can you connect...connect the...”

She trailed off quietly and a concerned look appeared on her face as she stood, turning towards the elevator. She frowned at it for a couple seconds before it opened and a nervous, young agent escorted a tall, brunette man in a neat gray suit, black tie loosened and top button undone, to the bullpen.

“Dave?” John stood as the man came into his view, “What are you doing here?”

“We’ve got it from here,” Gibbs motioned the young agent away.  

“Jack sent me,” Dave looked between John and EJ.

“What’s wrong?” EJ came around the desk quickly to stand in front of Dave, looking up at him.

“Is there some place we can talk?” Dave glanced over EJ’s shoulder to the curious faces of Gibbs’ team.

“ _Dave_ ,” EJ insisted, “I felt you from downstairs.  _What’s wrong_?”

“They recovered the video from Sharp’s hard drive,” Dave stated evenly.

“There's video?” EJ whispered, taking a small step back in shock, “Of my interrogation?”

“Yes,” Dave replied quietly, “The IOA wants you to come in tomorrow morning to go over it.”

“And by go over it,” John growled, pushing his fists down hard onto the top of the mostly empty desk, “You mean…”

“They want you to sit down and watch it, discuss it,” Dave gave EJ a pained look, “in front of the current senior committee, General O’Neill, General Landry, General Carter, and their resident trauma expert. They're concerned about some of your reactions, especially what happened after John got there. Sharp hasn't been able to speak since he woke up.”

EJ stood stiffly in front of Dave, taking shallow, uneven breaths as she clenched and unclenched her fists repeatedly.

“Emma,” John warned quietly, walking very slowly around the desk, “You need to calm down. This is not a good place to lose control.”

All the light bulbs in the bullpen shattered at once, darkening the area. The lights in the rest of the empty squad-room began flickering unevenly, in time with EJ’s shallow breaths, Gibbs noted with some concern.

“Emmaline, stop,” John came over to stand behind her, placing a steady hand carefully on the skin at the back of her neck. The lights stopped flickering, but her shallow uneven breaths continued.

“Jack is with them now,” Dave continued quickly, “He’s beyond livid. He sent me to tell you before anyone at the IOA had a chance to call to inform you.”

When EJ didn’t respond in any way, John turned her slowly around to face him, moving both hands gently to her biceps. Her eyes were wide and panicked, her skin clammy and pale.

“ _Dulcis_ ,” John spoke in a soothing tone, “You have to take a deep breath.”

“They want me to fucking watch,” EJ said incredulously, her panicked voice getting higher in pitch as she continued, “It’s not enough that I had to endure it in the first place? I had to go through all that because someone I should have been able to trust got greedy. Because one of their own was grasping for things beyond his understanding. They want me to watch myself go through my worst fucking nightmares again and... _DISCUSS MY REACTIONS IN FRONT OF A FUCKING COMMITTEE_?”

“We’re not going to let them do this, EJ,” Dave put his hands on her shoulders, holding her in firmly place between the two taller men, “I promise you.”

EJ started trembling in their hold and babbling in several different languages before finally settling on the bastardized Latin John had spoken earlier, the words spilling from her mouth in an endless stream of terrified noise.

“I think she’s having a panic attack,” Gibbs stood, coming over to stand closer to the small group, “Should I call Dr. Mallard?”

The mention of the doctor had the volume of EJ's words increasing suddenly and she struggled in the hold the two men had on her.

“Emmaline, no one is going to make you go near any doctors,” John shook her firmly twice, stopping the flow of words coming from her and making her still. He looked over his shoulder to where Gibbs was standing, “Is Abby still here?”

“She’s in her lab,” Gibbs nodded.

“You’re going to let Tony take you downstairs to Abby’s lab, okay? You like Abby, remember? She reminds you of Tizzy,” John spoke calmly, holding EJ's panicked gaze, “I’m going to stay up here to talk to Dave and Gibbs, figure out what’s going on. I need you to stay in control, Emmaline. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

EJ nodded dumbly, lips closed in a firm line.

“I got her,” Tony stepped forward.

“Tony’s going to hold your arm on the way down, Emma,” John motioned him over, “Don’t hurt him. I’ll take care of everything else, you just stay with Abby until this is fixed.”

EJ let herself be handed off to Tony and he led her silently to the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Google, for providing me with the random knowledge about spoken languages on Earth.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Dave's job offer came to me when I was re-watching season 4, episode 15, entitled 'Outcast'. In it, John Sheppard says about his brother, "That's what he does, he handles things."

As soon as the doors slid shut behind Tony and EJ, Gibbs turned to Tim.

“Keep working, McGee,” Gibbs ordered quietly, “Tell DiNozzo to do the same when he gets back up here. Call maintenance and see if someone is still here to replace these broken bulbs.”

“Yes, Boss,” Tim agreed nervously, picking up his phone.

“Let’s go up to the conference room,” Gibbs addressed the two other men, “Follow me.”

Gibbs led them quietly down the hall to the conference room, pulling the door shut behind them.

“Special Agent Jethro Gibbs,” John motioned, sitting in the chair at the end of the table, “This is my brother Dave Sheppard. Dave, this is Agent Gibbs, NCIS. His team is investigating the death of one of my Marines.”

“Nice to meet you, Agent Gibbs,” Dave shook his hand before sinking into one of the chairs next to John, “I wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Are you Dave Sheppard, CEO of Sheppard Utilities?” Gibbs asked curiously as he sat on the opposite side of John.

“For another two weeks, I am. I was offered a liaison position between the…” Dave trailed off and looked at his brother.

“He knows about the IOA supervising our program,” John stated easily, “But not about the program itself.”

“Between the IOA, General O’Neill’s division, and the program John works for,” Dave continued, “which is why the General sent me to deliver the news to EJ while he dealt with the idiots in the IOA.”

“So what happened?” Gibbs looked between the two men.

Dave raised an eyebrow at John, who sighed heavily and nodded once in agreement.

“Before she worked for our program,” Dave started, “EJ was a...spy for the US government. Three years ago, one of her handlers betrayed her, selling her location to one of the governments that… _dislikes_ her. She went to General O’Neill then, who brought her into our program, where she was hidden and safe for two and a half years. Due to some unusual circumstances, the man who sold her out found her again about six months ago. About a month ago, he threatened to kill some of the key members of the program in order to draw her out. At that point, EJ realized that a member of the IOA had to be involved with the traitor, otherwise he wouldn't have known any of those people existed. John and EJ started an undercover operation to get them to reveal their identities.”

“It didn’t go the way we wanted,” John continued quietly, “Three weeks ago, Emma's former handler, a man by the name of Edmund Sharp took her prisoner. He tortured her, using everything he knew about her past to get her to break. He broke her arm so badly she had to have four pins put in to piece the bone back together. There are close to two hundred individual incisions covering ninety percent of her body. Any place that wasn't cut was bruised. Sharp had her chained the entire time; wrists, ankles, around her neck. He kept her so drugged that she could hardly move half the time; pumped so full of stimulants that she couldn’t even pass out from the pain. Sharp had her for five days before we got her back. In the process of our team recovering her, she broke the legs of four guards. After she was out of the chains, she took Sharp's gun and blew out both his knees. He'll never walk again. There was a bit of confusion after that, but she did something to Sharp that...well, broke his brain, for lack of a better expression. No one, including her, knows exactly what she did to him, but he was in a coma until three days ago.”

“Jesus,” Gibbs swore, “And they want her to watch all that?”

“They’ve been debriefing her for the past week, since she was released from the infirmary,” Dave sighed, “The IOA is concerned that Colonel Baran’s shown no sign of emotion about the entire ordeal during the sessions. They think by forcing her to watch the video, they’ll be able to properly gauge whether she’s fit to return to duty or if she’s going to snap and kill everyone when she goes back.”

“Emma’s blank in front of the committee because that’s how she separates herself from what she’s done,” John scrubbed his hand down his face, “what she’s had to endure. She’s far from unaffected by the whole thing. She hasn’t slept for more than two hours at a time and she only eats if I force her to. When your agents showed up at our hotel this morning, it was the first day she’s had off since this started.”

“Why didn’t General O’Neill have you just give us the information then?” Gibbs questioned, “Why force you to help?”

“Baumann was one of my Marines,” John straightened in his chair, “and he was one of Baran’s scientists. I meant what I said earlier, we take care of our own. Jack couldn’t have stopped us from helping if he tried. He did offer to have another team take over for us, but you saw how well that went over.”

“How many languages did she cuss you out in?” Dave asked his brother with a smirk.

“Only three,” John winced, “But we had an audience.”

“The videos we saw with her and Fuentes,” Gibbs asked cautiously, “She didn’t volunteer for that assignment, did she?”

“No, she didn’t,” John scowled, “She was originally sent in to try to connect Fuentes to Connolly. A month into the mission, the task-force found out that Fuentes’ younger brother had been killing local law enforcement for fun. After that, she was tasked with eliminating the brother instead.”

“Fuentes is connected to this case?” Dave asked evenly.

“He is,” John agreed in the same tone, “Emma went to talk to him in the hospital this morning.”

“Did you…?” Dave prompted.

“Agent DiNozzo went with her,” John informed him, “It was decided that me going to question Fuentes would only complicate things. She recorded the conversation and he admitted to helping to set up the kidnapping of Dr. Casey.”

“Good,” Dave agreed easily.

“How is that a good thing?” Gibbs looked between the two of them again.

“It means he’ll never see the light of day again,” John smiled grimly.

“The nature of the program that we're involved in,” Dave’s smile mirrored his brother’s, “means that anyone who acts against the personnel involved can be convicted in an international tribunal of espionage and/or treason, depending on where they claim residence. If the crime is especially heinous, the person can be tried and convicted as a war criminal.”

“What is it you do, Colonel Sheppard?” Gibbs questioned.

“Deep-space radar telemetry,” John recited with an eye-roll.

“That cover story sucks,” Dave snorted, “They really need to update it.”

“In reality, I’m the CO of an international base in the middle of an active warzone,” John drawled, “The base is not only the center for all military operations in the area, it’s also an extremely advanced scientific research facility. I’m responsible for about four hundred various members of all branches of the military, American and otherwise, as well as over a hundred civilian scientists, also from various countries around the world. Our base also has mutual protection pacts with a couple dozen outlying villages, about ten thousand or so people in total. I’m one of six certified combat flight instructors on the base, running a course for new pilots every couple weeks. I also run an advanced SERE course for high-risk military assets in combatting mental coercion and surviving long-term torture.”

“And Colonel Baran?” Gibbs raised his eyebrows at John’s description, “What does she do at this international base?”

“Colonel Baran is the head of the linguistics department,” John smiled, “as well as the one of our primary negotiators. She supervises three different labs, two soft science labs, linguistics and sociology, and one...advanced tech lab, which is the one Dr. Casey works out of; about thirty various scientists spread out between them. She’s the base's lead instructor for advanced hand-to-hand combat, as well as a member of one of our elite SRE teams. She also runs a specialized SERE course, geared more towards surviving physical torture, one of the four different SERE courses required for any personnel going offwo-base. Colonel Baran, my XO Lt. Colonel Lorne, and I also share in running the rigorous, specialized training schedule the base requires.”

“That’s a lot of responsibilities for so few people,” Gibbs responded carefully.

“What we do is worth it,” John shrugged.

“Which is deep-space radar telemetry,” Gibbs deadpanned.

“Yup,” John grinned.

“You recovered Colonel Baran two weeks ago,” Gibbs said curiously, “and she’s only been out of the infirmary a week?”

“Right,” Dave confirmed.

“You said her arm was broken so badly,” Gibbs continued, pinning John with a hard stare, “they had to put four pins in it. She said the cast was supposed to come off in a couple days. The average recovery time for a broken arm is two to four months, usually six weeks in a cast.”

“That’s correct,” John held Gibbs stare easily.

“How is it possible that Colonel Baran is healed enough to remove the cast without further damaging her arm?” Gibbs asked cautiously.

“We have very good doctors,” John answered seriously.

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Colonel Sheppard,” Gibbs narrowed his eyes, his voice hardening.

“There’s lots of things I’m not telling you, Agent Gibbs,” John mimicked Gibbs’ tone, “And unless your security clearance has drastically improved in the last couple hours, you’re not getting anything else. We’ve already shared more than you should know.”

“Agent Gibbs,” Dave drew the older man’s attention, “My brother doesn’t mean any disrespect, but he’s correct in this instance.”

“You care a lot about your people, don’t you?” Gibbs looked back to John.

“I do,” John agreed.  

“That’s all I need to know then,” Gibbs shrugged.

“That was it?” John questioned, “After everything you’ve been told, that’s all you ask?”

“I was going to ask about the lights,” Gibbs said evenly, “and the fact that you told a person having a panic attack to stay in control, but I figured you’d tell me it was classified.”

“It is classified,” Dave answered firmly, “even more so than what you were told about the base. We would _appreciate_ it if you didn’t mention the incident to anyone, _ever_.”

“There’s security footage,” Gibbs informed them, “I can’t keep it a secret if someone sees the tapes.”

“There won’t be any footage from the entire time Dave was here,” John waved a hand dismissively, “It’s being taken care of already.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Gibbs sat back in the chair comfortably, “I just wanted to make sure you were interested in catching the people who killed Lt. Baumann and kidnapped Dr. Casey for more than just revenge for your wife or retrieving the prototype weapon.”  

“You could’ve just asked, Gibbs,” John drawled, “I could’ve told you that hours ago.”

“This way I know I got the truth,” Gibbs replied calmly.

“I have to get going, John,” Dave looked at his watch as he stood, “I need to be to work early tomorrow to start the process of transferring everything to the new CEO.”

“Yeah,” John stood, clapping his brother on the shoulder, “Thanks for coming to tell us.”

“If EJ’s…” Dave started quietly, then shook his head and began again, “Bring my sister-in-law by the house for dinner before you two head home. You can come too…I suppose.”

“Thanks, Dave,” John rolled his eyes, “Glad to know I’m invited to my brother’s house as an _afterthought_.”

“What?” Dave asked innocently, “I like EJ better. She’s more fun than you.”

“Hey! I’m plenty of fun. Plus, I’m the one who’s actually related to you,” John protested with a slight pout, “I should be the favorite.”

“Should be, little brother,” Dave grinned, “Doesn’t mean you are.”

 

* _NCIS*SGA*NCIS*SGA*NCIS*SGA*NCIS*_

 

Gibbs looked up from his desk to see Abby bouncing towards him, EJ following calmly behind, carrying what he recognized as Bert the Hippo clutched in her arms.

“Hi, Gibbs,” Abby stopped in front of his desk.

“What’s up, Abbs?” Gibbs asked, “You got something for me?”

“I emailed you my forensic report half an hour ago. I just came up ‘cause EJ said that someone was coming to see her,” Abby leaned close to stage-whisper at Gibbs, “I think she might kind of psychic like you, Gibbs. I want to see if she’s right or not.”

“I’m not-” Gibbs started, but was interrupted by the ding of the main elevator.

A moment later, General O’Neill, still dressed in his plain black BDUs, came into the bullpen.

“Whoa,” Abby exclaimed quietly, looking over to EJ, “Cool.”

“Sir,” John stood to acknowledge him.

“Colonel,” O’Neill nodded in his direction as EJ stepped forward, handing off the stuffed hippo to Abby.

“General O’Neill,” EJ uttered stiffly.

“Come here, kid,” O’Neill held out a hand.

EJ hesitated only a second before she stepped close to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her head in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her upper body, dropping a kiss to the top of her head as he held her for a long hug.

“I took care of it, EJ,” O’Neill assured her quietly, stroking a hand down her hair as she clung to him.

“She doesn’t have to…?” John stepped closer.

“After this case is done,” O’Neill looked over to him, “You’re both going home. No more debriefings, no more IOA, and definitely no video.”

“Really?” EJ took a deep, unsteady breath, moving back from O’Neill to link her fingers together with John’s, leaning into his body, “How did you manage all that, Jack?”

“There may or may not have been some threats involving feeding them to Todd-like creatures,” O’Neill replied carefully, “and a forceful reminder that if they wanted access to anything coming out of the City again, harassing one of her favorite residents, and by extension all the _Cultores_ , was not necessarily the best way to go. After that, I got mean.”  [Latin: Caretakers]

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!” Abby started bouncing up and down excitedly, “She _IS_ psychic! Just like you, see? She knew someone was coming to see her and look here he is.”

“Psychic?” O’Neill raised an eyebrow at EJ.

“General,” EJ let go of John’s hand to pull Abby closer, “this is Abby Scuito, the forensic tech here at NCIS. Abby, this is General Jack O’Neill, my boss.”

“Nice to meet you, Jack,” Abby shook his hand with a grin.

“Jack, you should convince whoever’s in charge to let Abby come work with us,” EJ grinned at the taller woman, “She’s brilliant. The science department would love her. Plus, she’s one of mine.”

At the last statement, O’Neill flicked an interested sideways glance to EJ as he dropped Abby’s hand, “One of yours, as in…?”

“On a scale of one to ten, with John and I being tens, I’d say a solid six,” EJ tilted her head to the side, “Minimum, probably more. Enough that I’d fight Rodney _and_ Zelenka at the same time for whose lab she worked in.”

“I’ll look into it,” O’Neill agreed easily, then reached into his shirt pocket for a small flash drive, “I also have a present for the team. Which one of you is the computer geek?”

“Me, sir,” Tim answered quickly. He caught the small flash drive that O’Neill tossed at him, then plugged it into his computer.

“Satellite and thermal images for the six locations you got on Dr. Casey,” O’Neill informed them as Tim transferred the information to the flat screen next to Gibbs, “for the last twelve hours. I like having minions with access to satellites.”

“Do they know you call them minions?” EJ looked up at him.

“They named _themselves_ my minions,” Jack insisted, “I was going to go with underlings, but _apparently_ that had too much of a negative connotation. I thought minions was just as negative, but they seem to like that better, so that’s what we agreed on.”

“Casey’s here,” John pointed to the top right image.

“How can you tell?” Tony came forward to squint at the screen, “It looks the same as the others.”  

“My Spidey senses are tingling,” John shrugged, “We should send out teams to all locations, but our team need to go to this location. We’re just waiting on the-”

He was interrupted by the chirping of the cell phone still on Tim’s desk. John picked it up quickly, answering it and speaking a few short words to the person on the other end before hanging up and stuffing the phone in his jeans pocket.

“Walter says the inventory’s done,” John announced, “Everything else is accounted for. Only the one working weapon that Baumann and Casey checked out is missing. We’re ready whenever you are, Agent Gibbs.”

“McGee,” Gibbs looked over to him.

“Calling ATF and FBI to tell them to move their teams into position,” Tim picked up his phone.

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs turned to him.

“Sending the Director an update and moving all NCIS agents on standby into position,” Tony moved to his own phone.

“Sheppard,” Gibbs glanced between him and EJ.

“I’ll let our people know they can move into position as well,” Sheppard said easily, “Then Colonel Baran and I will follow your team to the location I pointed out.”

“General,” EJ looked up at O’Neill seriously, “Please tell the men picking up Fuentes that each member of his security detail has a .22 and a small switch-blade concealed somewhere on them. They’re decent with both weapons and they’re very loyal to Fuentes. Fuentes has a nine millimeter stuffed under his pillow and he’ll use it, even if he can’t get out of bed yet. They should expect resistance from all of them.”

“I’ll let them know. Go get Dr. Casey back,” O’Neill commanded, “And try _really hard_ not to get shot again. Either of you.”

“We’ll try, sir,” John and EJ responded with identical eye-rolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's job description is inspired by the story 'Unexpected' by readergirl1013, posted on this site.
> 
> SRE: Search/Rescue/Extraction


	7. Chapter 7

Gibbs strapped his vest into place, watching as John and EJ started pulling gear out of their black rental car. He wisely didn’t ask why the two Colonels had Kevlar vests, at least one high-tech sniper rifle, a couple of P90s, and several other weapons in the trunk. Both of them took off their leather jackets, strapping their Kevlar vests in place before clipping a well-used holster over their jeans, John's on his right thigh and EJ's on her left. John checked over his Colt before slipping it into the holster as EJ did the same with a black Glock. After both of them had their guns in place, EJ reached over to check all the straps and clips on John's gear, making sure everything was properly attached. As soon as she was finished, John repeated the same checks on EJ, dropping a quick kiss on her forehead when he was done.

“Agent Gibbs,” John came up to him, “Our teams need to know if you want the men at their locations alive or dead.”

“Why ask me?” Gibbs questioned.

“It’s an NCIS case,” EJ took her place next to John, “You’re in charge. We’re just here to assist with manpower.”

“Other than Fuentes, Connolly, and Frederick,” John continued, “The rest of the bad guys belong to you. We don’t need them for anything.”  

“Alive for questioning then,” Gibbs ordered easily, putting his wired earpiece into his ear, “Unless your men’s lives are in danger.”

John tapped the small, black, wireless earpiece in his ear, “Colonel Davidson, this is Colonel Sheppard. Inform all SG teams: NCIS requests we capture not kill, unless under impending threat of doom. All detainees are to be handed over to the NCIS agency after the raiding parties are done. They’d like to be able to question them, so try not to rough 'em up too much.”

EJ tapped her earpiece as well, “This is Colonel Baran. Who’s the team leader in Baltimore? Can you relay my signal to him please?”

There was a pause as whoever was on the other side of the earpiece did as she asked.

“Major Brown, this is Colonel Baran. Does anyone on your team have EOD experience?” EJ paused momentarily, “Good. The warehouse you’re going into is where Fuentes’ bomb-maker usually works. The guy is a little paranoid and a lot psychotic, so tell your teams to watch out for booby-traps. Landry will be pissed if I don’t return you guys in pristine condition. He already doesn’t like me much, I’d rather not make it any worse.”

John laughed as they both tapped off their earpieces, “Ready when you are, Agent Gibbs. Our teams are in place.”

“McGee,” Gibbs turned around to see Tim finishing a quick conversation on his phone.

“All ATF, FBI, and NCIS agents in place, Boss,” Tim informed him, “Waiting on your go.”

Tony came jogging up to the group, “Got eyes on the building, Boss. Two exits. Back entrance is guarded by two men with very large automatic weapons. Front entrance is guarded by four men in plain clothes, handguns poorly concealed.”

“It’d be better if we can do this quietly,” Baran said thoughtfully, “so we don’t give the men inside any idea we’re out here.”

“What did you have in mind?” Gibbs asked curiously.

John and EJ exchanged another of their long looks before John turned back to Gibbs with a smile.

“Suggest the majority of us go in through the front, Agent Gibbs,” John grinned, “They won’t be expecting that. Colonel Baran and I can take care of the guys in the front. Do you have a couple agents that can take care of the goons with the big guns in the back in a quiet-like manner?”

“I do,” Gibbs agreed easily, “How do you plan on ‘taking care’ of the four guys in the front?”

John and EJ started unstrapping their vests and holsters, handing them over to Tony and Tim.

“I’m just looking for a nice, private spot to share with my girlfriend,” John drawled.

“I’m not sure be should be here, sugar,” EJ spoke with a sweet, southern belle accent, “It seems awful dangerous and, oh my _goodness_ , where did the nice men with guns come from?”

“You think that’s going to work?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow, “No one falls for that anymore.”

EJ tugged her tight shirt lower, exposing a hint of cleavage, and pulled the rubber band holding her hair out, running her fingers through to fluff it out.

“Works in the movies, doesn't it?” EJ grinned at Tony then turned to John and her smile softened, “I’ve been told I’m very distracting.”

“That wasn’t necessarily a compliment, _dulcis_ ,” John smirked at her.

“You sure you’re up for this, Baran?” Gibbs questioned as John started to walk away.

“I realize you and I haven’t known each other very long,” EJ glared at him over her shoulder as she followed John towards the building, “so I’m going to ignore that statement. Wait for the signal.”

Tony and Tim followed Gibbs over to where the main group of agents were waiting. Gibbs took an offered pair of binoculars and held them up to his eyes to see John and EJ come into view of the men guarding the door, underneath a large light attached to the building. The couple was laughing and wrapped around each other, John walking EJ clumsily backwards as she tried to distract him by attaching her lips to his neck. The guards watched them with a mix of wariness and amusement as they came closer. John eventually gave up trying to walk with EJ and simply propped her up against the wall of the building a few yards away from the men. Two of the men came closer as John started moving his hands under the hem of EJ’s shirt, dipping his head to nibble at her collar bone as he did so.  One of the men said something to them, causing both of them to lift their heads and give the men a startled look. They didn’t move away from the wall, or each other, as the two men came closer, opening their light jackets to reveal the guns hidden there.

At some unseen signal, John and EJ moved together, John throwing a quick, snapping punch to the nearest man’s throat before wrapping an arm around the second man’s neck, tightening his choke-hold on the man as EJ blurred past them. The two men still by the door attempted to draw their guns, but EJ knocked the weapons out of their hands as John dropped the first man to the ground. EJ kicked a foot high into one of the guard’s temple, her boot heel hitting him hard and dropping him to the ground, as John elbowed the gagging man in the stomach making him bend over in pain. EJ got her arm around the last guard’s neck, applying enough pressure to make him pass out. John smashed a fist into the bent man’s jaw, knocking him to the ground with the other three men.

EJ pulled the two earpieces out of her jeans pocket, handing one to John before slipping the second over her own ear.

“Entrance is clear,” EJ whispered as she flicked her hair back into a high ponytail.

“It’s so hard to find good help these days,” John bent down to retrieve the weapons on the ground, partially disassembling them before throwing the pieces into a pile away from the unconscious men, “I’d appreciate it if someone could bring us some cuffs for these idiots.”

“All agents, move into positions,” Gibbs handed the binoculars back to the man next to him, “Make sure the men at the back are taken down silently, then keep both entrances covered. No one gets away.”

The gathered agents jogged quietly towards the building. Tony and Tim handed the gear they were holding back to John and EJ, who put their vests, holsters, and guns back in place, doing another round of quick checks on each other, while the unconscious men were zip-tied and moved away from the door. A couple of the NCIS agents stood guard over them and the pile of weapon parts while everyone else stood ready at the door.

John reached over to lay a hand on the building by the door, swaying a little as he made contact with the cool brick. EJ stepped in front of him and put a hand on his arm, looking up at him with concern, his eyes soft and unfocused. The two of them appeared to have another of their silent conversations while John came back to himself quickly.

“Show me,” EJ whispered, taking John’s left hand in her own. They closed their eyes for a moment, then dropped hands as EJ nodded to John, both of again with eyes open, “I can take care of that, but it’s still going to hurt.”

“Agent Gibbs,” EJ turned to him quietly, “Please don’t ask any questions right now, but we know where Dr. Casey is being held. I’d like you and your team to follow us directly to him while everyone else clears the building.”

“Let me guess,” Gibbs looked over to John then back to EJ, “It’s classified.”

“Even if it wasn't,” John sighed, "You'd never believe me if I told you." 

“Let’s do this,” Gibbs ordered, taking his place next to Tony, behind John and EJ, “DiNozzo, McGee, follow the Colonels. Everyone else, make sure the building is cleared.”

The men near the door looked back to Gibbs. He nodded and the men flung open the door, fanning out as soon as they got inside, immediately subduing and cuffing the men they found. John and EJ followed them in, Gibbs, Tony, and Tim right behind, breaking off from the group, heading deeper into the building. They quickly cleared the rooms, finding no one until John split off, motioning Tony and Tim to follow him silently.

EJ made her way to a closed door nearby, signaling Gibbs to take the other side of the door. Gibbs put a hand on the door, waiting until EJ nodded before he twisted the knob and pushed the door open quietly. EJ rushed in, moving immediately to the left around the large lab room as Gibbs moved the opposite way, checking behind the large whiteboards crowding the room.

“NCIS,” Tony yelled from the opposite side of the room, “Drop the weapon.”

“Back off,” a gruff, male voice said, “I’d rather not have to shoot the doctor here, but I will if you don’t let us leave.”

Gibbs came around another white board, taking a position next to John, opposite from EJ, with Tony and Tim between them.  The five of them formed a loose half circle facing the large, blonde man holding a strange weapon against the ribs of a shorter, ginger man with slim glasses perched crookedly on his face. All five of them had their guns aimed at the blonde.

“Release Dr. Casey,” Tim commanded, “There’s nowhere for you to go.”

“The building is surrounded with NCIS agents, Mr. Frederick,” Gibbs added, “Give yourself up and you won’t be harmed.”

“That’s not happening. With this beauty,” Frederick flicked his eyes down to the strange weapon pushed up against Casey’s ribs, “I can get rid of all of those agents. It doesn’t ever run out of ammo.”

“That’s not entirely true,” John interjected, “Didn’t you tell him about the power source, Dr. Casey?”

“Colonel Sheppard, sir?” Casey asked nervously, trying to hold still in the man’s grip.

EJ spoke quietly in the bastardized Latin they had been using earlier and Casey seemed to relax, but kept his attention on John.

“It’s okay, Chad,” John put his gun back in the holster, taking a small step forward, “You can tell him.”

“The power source for that weapon is extremely unreliable,” Casey explained evenly, “You can only get half a dozen shots off before the intensity starts to fluctuate widely. That’s the main reason we’re trying to develop a more stable prototype.”

“That’s a lie,” Frederick insisted, jabbing the weapon into Casey’s side again.

“What reason do we have to lie to you?” EJ put her gun away as well, keeping her left hand raised towards the blonde. Gibbs noticed a small blue symbol glowing in the middle of her palm.

“Even if what you say is true,” Frederick shook his head, “The weapon still has enough power to kill the five of you.”

“How many times has that weapon been fired, Chad?” EJ took another step closer, keeping her hand steady in front of her.

“It’s been fired four times,” Casey informed them.

“That means you only have two good shots left,” John drawled, “Anything after that is a gamble. There’s five of us. That means there’s a high probability that you’re going to get shot before you even get out of this room.”

“These NCIS agents are pretty good shots,” EJ insisted calmly, “and in situations like this, they shoot to kill. It’d be better for you if you let Casey go.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” Frederick tightened his grip on Casey, swinging the weapon out to aim and fire at John.

The blue blast hit John in the arm, making him drop to the ground as Casey let his body become dead weight, collapsing out of the way as Tony, Tim, and Gibbs fired into Frederick’s body several times, killing him almost instantly.

“Casey, you good?” EJ moved forward immediately to pick up the weapon from where Frederick had dropped it.

“Yes, ma’am,” Casey answered weakly, standing slowly, “Is Colonel Sheppard…?”

“My damn arm is going to be numb for hours,” John held his left arm carefully against his side, “But I’m fine.”

“Sorry, _carissime_ ,” EJ walked over to help him stand, “Best I could do under the circumstances. Control is tricky when I can't see what I'm doing. At least it’s better than the alternative.”

“What just happened here?” Tony looked around curiously.

“We lied to Mr. Frederick,” John walked slowly to the closest whiteboard, “The weapon functions perfectly.”

“I thought it caused massive burns,” Tony frowned a little.

“It can,” EJ shrugged, “It has different settings though. It can be set at a lower power level so it only stuns instead of killing.”

“How did you know that it was on a lower setting?” Gibbs looked between John and EJ.

“If you want me to stop telling you things are classified, Agent Gibbs,” EJ stuck the strange weapon in the back pocket of her jeans, "You should stop asking questions like that."

“NCIS agents report the building clear, Boss,” Tim informed him, “I’ll let them know we have Dr. Casey, alive and well.”

“These calculations are wrong, Dr. Casey,” John motioned to a set of numbers on the whiteboard, his left arm still dead weight at his side. 

“I know that, Colonel,” Casey rolled his eyes, “I purposely built in mistakes to the calculations involving the power requirements in case they decided to kill me and bring in someone else.”

“I’m aware of that, Chad,” John drawled, “But you inverted a couple of symbols here in this part. It’s not part of your patterned mistakes and it threw the rest of these boards off.”

“It most certainly did not,” Casey came over to stand by John, checking over his calculations, “And what would a fluffy-haired flyboy know about it anyway?”

“I understand you’ve just been through what could be considered a traumatic experience,” John narrowed his eyes at the shorter man, “so I’m going to give you a pass on the hair thing. I happen to have a degree in applied mathematics from Stanford, Dr. Casey. Look at the calculations.”

“There is _nothing_ wrong with…” Casey began arguing loudly with John in front of the whiteboard.

EJ shook her head with a sigh as Gibbs came over to stand by her, “We’re going to have to take all these boards with us, Agent Gibbs.”

“Let me guess,” Gibbs spoke just loud enough to be heard over the loud argument, “The math on them is _classified_.”

“Don’t be silly, Gibbs,” EJ grinned at him, “Math isn’t classified. But the things that the math pertains to…well, that’s another story.”

“Does he really have a degree from Stanford?” Tim came over to join them.

“He’s close to a doctorate, actually,” EJ smiled softly in John’s direction, “But he says he's too lazy to finish his thesis. Plus, he doesn’t like people knowing how smart he really is. Gives him an advantage if they underestimate him.”

“So why did he say something now?” Tony wondered.

“He’s distracting Chad,” EJ rolled her eyes when Casey and John started fighting over a marker, “so he doesn’t think too hard about what happened to David.”

“He’ll have to deal with it eventually,” Gibbs looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

“He will,” EJ nodded solemnly, “and we’ll help him then too. But he doesn’t have to do it right now.”

“EJ!” Casey whine-shouted, rescuing the marker from John's grip, “Keep your man-child-boy-toy away from my math! He’s messing everything up!”

“John, dear,” EJ responded calmly, trying to contain her smile, “Don’t mess up Chad’s math.”

“I’m not messing it up,” John insisted with a pout, “I’m _fixing_ it. And I object to being called a ‘man-child-boy-toy’.”

“Oh please, Colonel,” Casey huffed, “Like that’s the worst thing you’ve ever been called. Go shoot something and leave the science to the scientists. Stay away from my calculations.”

"Your calculations are incorrect," John smirked, "You'd think a scientist would want to know if his math is going to make things explode if he uses it." 

"It will not!" Casey yelled, "I've been working on these for weeks! You can't just barge in here and take over." 

“Boys,” EJ sighed and put her hands on her hips, “Don’t make me come over there and separate you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the two men said sheepishly.


	8. Chapter 8

The raids on Alejandro Fuentes’ warehouses resulted in the complete dismantling of his organization and hundreds of arrests all over the country, as well as the subsequent investigation into the remainder of Michael Connolly’s weapons manufacturing company. Two weeks later, Gibbs was sitting in the bullpen with his team, finishing their reports on the latest case, when the phone on his desk rang. Vance’s secretary politely requested that Gibbs and his team come up to Vance’s office to speak with the Director. Gibbs agreed easily, hanging up the phone and directing his team to follow him up the stairs. They were joined at the top of the stairs by a nervous Abby coming out of the elevator and the four of them made their way to Vance’s office. They were waved in immediately by the secretary, then Gibbs opened the door to see Vance speaking easily with General O’Neill and Dave Sheppard. O’Neill was in his typical black BDUs, but Dave wore a neatly tailored, gray pin-striped suit with a bright blue tie against a pale blue shirt.

“Agents, Ms. Scuito,” Vance greeted them, “Come on in. Take a seat please.”

Tim sat next to Abby on the far side of the table, Tony opposite them next to Director Vance. Gibbs took the seat at the end of the table, opposite O’Neill, with Dave taking the final seat next to Abby.

“I suppose you’re all wondering why I brought you here today,” O’Neill said with a mostly straight face.

Dave rolled his eyes and mumbled under his breath, “I knew I should’ve brought Davis.”

“General O’Neill, this is the rest of Agent Gibbs’ team,” Vance motioned around the table as he spoke, “Agent Tony DiNozzo, Agent Tim McGee, and Ms. Abby Scuito.”

“I’ve met them,” O’Neill gave a friendly wave, “Sort of. Hello again.”

“Agents,” Vance continued, ignoring O’Neill, “This is General Jack O’Neill and this is Dave Sheppard.”

“We’ve met as well,” Dave smothered the urge to smile, “Except for Ms. Scuito.”

“Are we in some sort of trouble?” Abby fidgeted in her chair.

“Did you do something that you  _should_ be in trouble for, Abby?” O’Neill asked with a smirk.

“No one’s in trouble,” Dave said quickly, giving O’Neill an exasperated look, “Jack, maybe you better let me do the talking.”

“Then why did I even have to come with?” O’Neill complained.

“The President is annoyed with you because you were playing solitaire while he was briefing the new SecNav on the program,” Dave said evenly, “And also because you set John and EJ loose on the IOA last week instead of sending them straight home. They had a list of demands three pages long. The IOA agreed to two pages. This was somewhere on page one.”

O’Neill considered the memory for a moment before breaking into a wide grin.

“Worth it,” he decided, waving a hand across the table generously, “Continue on, Dave.”

Dave stood to hand out a stack of folders to everyone sitting at the table, along with a pen for each of them, before sitting back down.

“More non-disclosure agreements?” Gibbs questioned as he opened the folder in front of him, “The whole team signed a stack of these already.”

“Those were for the information you obtained on the Baumann case,” Dave explained, “These are for something else.”

“Something else?” Vance inquired.

“Unfortunately,” Dave looked apologetic, “I can’t tell you anything else unless you sign them. But it’ll be worth it if you do.”

“And if we don’t?” Gibbs looked across the table to the younger man.

“Then Jack and I will go have lunch,” Dave gave a one-shouldered shrug, “and get back to work. We’re not going to force you to do anything.”

After a moment of hesitation, Abby uncapped her pen and signed her name with a flourish at the bottom of each of the sheets. The rest of the group followed suit, pushing the folders back down to Dave when they finished.

“The IOA has graciously,” O’Neill snorted, earning another glare from Dave before the younger man continued speaking, “decided to increase the program’s budget by thirty-five percent this year. This means that we'll be able to hire a lot of new people to work at the base. The increase in personnel means we need to increase security in the City as well.”

“The City?” Tim asked curiously.

“It’s one of the names for the base where Colonel Sheppard and Colonel Baran live,” Dave explained, “Since the City operates almost independently from the rest of the program, it was decided that NCIS agents would be a good choice for a few of those security slots.”

“Like being Agent Afloat?” Vance leaned back in his chair.

“Exactly,” Dave agreed, “Granted, there’s not much crime in the City, from what I understand, but after reviewing the files of Agent Gibbs’ team and seeing them in action, Colonel Baran _suggested_ that their team might be a good fit.”

“Suggested, my ass,” O’Neill muttered, “Woman harassed me for three hours.”

“Jack,” Dave warned and O'Neill rolled his eyes.

“Mostly EJ wants Ms. Scuito to come work in one of her labs,” O’Neill smiled at the young Goth, “But she and John both had a lot of good things to say about the rest of the team.”

“Where is this base located?” Tony wondered.

“That’s classified until you sign your employment contract,” Dave said calmly.

“What kind of things would we be doing there?” Abby asked with a keen interest, “Would we get to see more cool stuff like that shooty-laser-thing?”

“You would be assigned to one of the science labs,” Dave informed her, “Depending on which lab you’re assigned and because of your unique status, you’d most likely have your choice of projects.”

“And yes,” O’Neill added, “There’s _lots_ of cool stuff in the City. Especially for you, Abby.”

“Why is Abby so special?” Tim questioned, receiving a smack to his arm from the woman in question. 

“Colonel Baran believes that Ms. Scuito possesses a unique gene that makes her especially qualified to work in the City,” Dave explained carefully, “The rest of you may or may not have it as well, but EJ says Ms. Scuito’s expression of the gene is stronger than at least half the people we have already, which means she would be in high demand in the science department.”

“What would the rest of us be doing?” Tony asked cautiously.

“A lot of the same work you would do on a ship,” Dave continued his explanation, “Investigating crimes and such, but you’d each have additional duties as well. Agent McGee would likely be asked to work part-time with the IT department, which is actually quite a bit more complicated and interesting than it sounds. Colonel Baran wants Agent DiNozzo to join one of the first-contact or diplomacy teams, provided he can complete the program’s physical training with adequate scores. Colonel Sheppard seemed quite impressed with Agent Gibbs’ military record and will probably ask him to serve as a weapons instructor.”

“They’d be required to do all that in addition to their normal NCIS duties?” Vance questioned carefully.

“No one in the City does only one thing,” O’Neill shrugged, “They’re pretty cut-off, so everyone pitches in where they can.”

“How cut-off exactly?” Tim asked warily.

“You’ll be able to email friends and family as often as you'd like which, barring random emergencies, would be delivered once a week,” O’Neill informed them, “Plus you’ll be able to take a week of leave stateside once every three months. But no phone or video calls and regular mail takes at least two weeks and a dozen security screenings to get there.”

“How long would my agents be there?” Vance questioned, “Are we talking about a permanent career move or a temporary duty-station?”

“I’d be willing to offer them a fifteen month contract to start,” O’Neill turned his attention to Vance, “after which we could re-evaluate. But we’ve found that ninety percent of the people who sign contracts to work in the City end up staying there a long time. If that happens, we'll terminate your agents' employment with NCIS and they'll come work for me instead. Some of the people in the City, Colonel Sheppard included, have been there since the beginning, going on nine years now. They consider the City their home and they've built full lives there.”

“And if we don’t like it there?” Gibbs wondered, “Or if there are other problems?”

“Then you’ll spend the remainder of your contract at the Cheyenne Mountain complex,” Dave answered easily, “or be released from it completely, depending on the severity of the problem. You’ll be asked to sign another stack of non-disclosure agreements when you leave. We’re not going to force anyone to stay in the program if they don’t want to be there.”

“Unless they get the neuralizer working by then,” O’Neill grinned, “In which case, you won’t remember a _thing_ if you leave.”

“Wait, really?” Tony sat forward in his chair, “Do you really have people working on a neuralizer?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny such information,” O’Neill deadpanned.

“Why a fifteen month contract?” Tim wondered, ignoring Tony's gleeful smile, “Why not just a year?”

“There is a three-month training period,” Dave explained, “Six weeks standard training and an additional six weeks of training because you’re civilians going to the City.”

“How long do we have to decide?” Tony inquired.

“I’ll need your answers by the end of the week,” Dave told him, “So we can either start your training or start looking for alternates. It’s not an all-or-nothing deal for your team. If only some of you want to sign up, that’s fine too.”

“Is it worth it?” Abby asked seriously, getting to the heart of the matter as only she could, “The being cut-off, all the extra work, all the training, all the secrecy. Is what we’d be doing there worth all that?”

“Absolutely,” O’Neill answered sincerely, “Every single minute of it.”

“Gibbs,” Abby turned to him, “You know I love my job, right? Like, really love it. It’s awesome. But I think I want to do this.”

“Me too, Boss,” Tony added quietly.

“I need to talk to Delilah first,” Tim said hesitantly, “But I do too.”

Gibbs looked over the eager faces of his team, then directed his attention to O’Neill, holding the man’s sharp gaze, “Can you guarantee the safety of my team?” 

“No, I can’t,” O’Neill spoke honestly, “The City is dangerous. What they do there is dangerous. We had to invent new forms of hazard pay for the type of things they have to deal with every day. It’s in the middle of hostile territory, cut-off from what most people consider civilization, and they're at the center of a large-scale war.”

“But?” Gibbs prompted.

“But the people who work in the City are the best and brightest the _entire world_ has to offer,” O’Neill smiled warmly, “The things they do there, the things they’ve accomplished, are truly amazing. And I don’t use that word lightly, Gibbs. I can’t guarantee that your team will be safe, but I can promise you that they’ll be protected by the best I have to offer.”

“An honest answer,” Gibbs returned the smile.

“I’m pretty sure you just took my best team for the next fifteen months,” Vance scowled at Gibbs and O’Neill, then turned to see Abby bouncing in her chair excitedly, “if not permanently. I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

“I’d say I was sorry,” O’Neill flashed him a grin, “but it’d be a lie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was just supposed to be a short crossover story, but it sort of accidently-on-purpose exploded into something bigger. I'd say I'm sorry, but it'd be a lie. ;)
> 
> Please read the rest of the Shadow 'Verse series!  
> Hope you enjoyed this story and thanks for reading. Questions, comments, and kudos are always appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr - truestargoddess- for Stargate related things!


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